


Give Me An Ending

by ArchOfImagine



Series: The Middle is a Sacrifice [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Genius Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Hurt Bucky Barnes, IM1 Timeline, Implied/Referenced Torture, Iron Man 1, JARVIS - Freeform, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Loss, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Non-Serum Steve Rogers, Permanent Injury, Peter Stark - Freeform, Pining, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Torture, canonical character injury, mentions of Tony Stark/Pepper Potts - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21559444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine
Summary: Bucky Barnes is okay with being the head of security for the Stark family -- Tony Stark has been the closest thing to a best friend that Bucky has had since he got back from the war. And yes, 'head of security' might also meandiaper changerandstorybook reader, but he loves the Stark children as much as he loves Tony.Unfortunately it was up to him to explain to those children why Daddy wasn't coming home, when things went wrong in Afghanistan. And it is also up to him to explain why Mommy isn't coming back either. But they're resilient children that will pull through... even when they all find out that custody has been granted to their uncle Steve Rogers, Pepper's somewhat flaky adopted brother. Suddenly uncle Steve is in their lives and wanting to change more things than a five-year-old and a one-year-old are prepared to handle.But Tony always made certain of one thing: no matter what, Morgan and Peter would have Bucky in their corner.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: The Middle is a Sacrifice [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542631
Comments: 56
Kudos: 255





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the main story in my series 'The Middle is a Sacrifice.' While writing this behemoth, I realized that there was a background between Tony and Bucky that I wanted to know the full story of, so I moved over to write the prequel and went ahead and posted it. This is mostly set on an Iron Man 1 timeline, which means the prequel is leading up to it and describes how Bucky and Tony met. You can read this without reading that, but there are a few hidden gems that you'll know from that, if you do decide to read it.
> 
> I know a lot of people are iffy about reading WIP stories, so I want to say this: I'm roughly five chapters into this already, and my muse keeps bringing me back to it, without my say so. Also, I have never left a WIP without being finished! But, I don't generally post on a schedule. Updates will happen as soon as the next part is finished. :)
> 
> Also, I want to note that Morgan has a _lot_ of personality, for a five-year-old. I'm a full time nanny (with a niece Morgan's age), so I spend a lot of time around kids, which is generally why I love writing about them. I have been treating Morgan's character as if she were a tiny Tony Stark, aka: a genius. Kids will adapt to the environment they're put in!

**”Our Hearts Are Heavy Today,” Stark Industries Says About Potts-Stark Death**   
_Olivia Carlton | USA TODAY  
Updated 2:05 p.m. PDT Apr. 14, 2008_

> Just two weeks after Tony Stark, the billionaire brain behind Stark Industries (SI), was killed when a rocket propelled grenade struck his convoy in Afghanistan, we are now receiving reports that another tragedy has befallen the family. Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts-Stark died Sunday night at West Hills Hospital in Malibu, shortly after her vehicle was involved in a two-car collision. The car was going west bound on HWY 101 when an oncoming vehicle lost control and struck it head on. Information about the driver of the other vehicle has not been released.
> 
> Potts-Stark had recently returned to work in her role as CEO of Stark Industries, after taking a year off for the birth of her second child. 
> 
> SI has released the following statement, in regards to the accident:
> 
> “Our hearts are heavy today, as we mourn the loss of the wonderful Pepper Potts-Stark. Not only was Mrs. Potts-Stark a spectacular businesswoman, she was also a loving mother, daughter, and sister. Going forward our focus will be to continue to uphold her legacy, as well as Tony’s. We ask that you please keep the entire Stark family in your thoughts, and respect their privacy in this time of mourning. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the Stark Art Preservation Society — a foundation that Pepper held dear to her heart.”
> 
> It is unknown what will happen with the Potts-Stark children at this time. 

* * *

Bucky had lived through a lot in his life. Just under two tours in Afghanistan… being blown up, held captive. Surgery after surgery after surgery to fix what had been broken. Seeing friends die. Hell… holding them in his arms _as_ they died. Killing people. Bad people. Good people. In a war, what was the difference?

That was not to mention losing his family when he was a teenager and getting torn from the only home he had ever known to live with a long lost aunt three thousand miles away.

He had seen shit and done shit that most people couldn’t even dream of.

And literally _none_ of that was worse than having to tell a five-year-old that her mommy wasn’t coming home.

What made it worse, unfortunately, was it had only been two weeks since they had told her about her father. The once bright-eyed little girl, had spent quite a bit of time quietly watching the world move on around her. Bucky had decided that letting her slowly digest everything on her own, while still keeping day-to-day life as close to normal as possible, was the best option. While lawyers handled the legal shit (ie: who was suddenly in charge of the two richest children in the world), Bucky moved his stuff into the spare bedroom that was within hearing distance of both Morgan and Peter’s bedrooms. 

His team offered to help, more than a few times, but Bucky waved them off, instructing them to keep the exterior of the mansion secure. Thor, the children’s tutor, was being called back early from vacation, so he would soon be there to offer a second set of helping hands.

And it wasn’t like Bucky didn’t have experience with the children. Peter was… well, had been, just as likely to reach for Bucky as he was Tony. And Morgan sometimes begged and pleaded for Bucky to be the one to tuck her in at night. He knew how to change diapers, warm bottles, and make the only kind of grilled cheese that Miss Morgan would eat. 

Frankly, he would be okay with being the name written down on Pepper’s will, as the children’s new guardian, should the worst happen.

But, unfortunately, he was only the personal bodyguard. Tony _maybe_ would have put him down for that role, but Bucky had been the closest thing to a best friend that Tony had. The only voice, aside from Pepper’s, that he would listen to over the last ten years.

Pepper had family, though. Her parents were no longer around, but she had a brother somewhere on the east coast that sometimes showed up for holidays, if he could be bothered to stop working long enough.

“Baba!”

Bucky shook his head. He didn’t have time to worry about what was or wasn’t written in Pepper’s will. “I’m coming kid!”

* * *

Bucky was in charge of the Stark estate for five days, before the lawyers finally agreed on the contents of both Pepper and Tony’s wills. He stood in the kitchen, laptop open on the island counter, looking over the email that he had been sent.

He didn’t understand half of it, but he got the main points. Full guardianship had been appointed to _Steven Grant Rogers_ (aka, Pepper’s adopted brother), and should he deny said guardianship it would transfer to Bucky. Also, it had been clearly stipulated in Tony’s will that the family would continue to be protected by his selected security crew on a twenty-four hour basis. Bucky and his team were to continue keeping the children safe, no matter what the new guardian said. 

He was thankful, once more, that his paycheck came from the Stark Estate, and not Stark Industries. He didn’t have a very good opinion of Obadiah Stane (the newly appointed CEO), and he had a feeling that Stane would take Tony’s death as a perfect excuse to replace him with someone cheaper, less reliable. Someone he could control.

Instead, Tony had made sure that Bucky would continue to be in charge, and if he ever decided to move on, he would be the one deciding his replacement.

Bucky was just in the process of forwarding the email to his second-in-command, Natasha, when JARVIS spoke up.

_“Sir.”_

“Yeah, J?”

_“Mr. Lang is on the line.”_

“Go ahead.”

Scott's voice patched through the system at the same time that JARVIS put up a holoscreen of the front gate camera view. “Barnes, we have a request for entry. Someone named Steven Grant Rogers? ID checks. Not media.”

Well it looked like Rogers had finally gotten his ass on a plane and decided to deal with things… Bucky frowned at the second person in the car, a young black man that he had never seen before. “Passenger ID?”

“Samuel Thomas Wilson. Both have Brooklyn home addresses.”

“Let them in. I’ll meet them at the front door.” The line disconnected and Bucky waved away the holo. “JARVIS, can you please let Thor and Phil know that we have guests? Tell them I’ll give an update when they’re cleared to bring the kids upstairs.”

_“Of course, sir.”_

He finished forwarding the email to Natasha, before locking his computer and leaving it on the counter as he went to meet the new arrivals at the front door. 

He had met Steve Rogers before and didn’t have very many good opinions about the man. Mostly in regards to how he treated his sister and her children. Since Morgan was born, she had met her uncle Steve on _two_ occasions — her second Christmas and third birthday. After that, Rogers had received a grant to fund his work and suddenly he could only be bothered to call once a month, if he remembered.

If he had called after Tony’s death, Pepper hadn’t mentioned it. 

If the man thought he was going to walk in and have an easy time raising Morgan and Peter… 

Well, it wasn’t going to happen... in any universe.

Bucky looked up, watching as Rogers pulled the car to a stop under the portico and the two men climbed out of the rental. “Mr. Rogers, I wish you had called… I would have sent a car.” ( _Not._ ) 

“Barnes.” Rogers moved to the back, where he pulled out a suitcase that was almost taller than his own height (barely over five feet, according to JARVIS’ system). Samuel, the man with him, had a backpack and pulled out a similar suitcase. The two men moved up to him, suitcases trailing behind them. 

_I'm not a butler,_ he had told Tony… more times than he could count. He stepped aside and motioned the men in. 

"Want to see your rooms first? Or should we get right to discussions?"

Rogers pushed his suitcase against the entry wall and looked around the empty living room. “Where are the kids?”

Bucky looked down at his watch. “Morgan is with her tutor for another ninety minutes, and Peter is with his nanny.”

“Oh.”

“The playroom is downstairs. I’ll have them brought up after a quick chat.” Bucky turned to Samuel. “I’m James Barnes, by the way.”

The young black man shook his hand and gave a nod. “Sam Wilson. I’m Steve’s grad student.”

Steve quickly interjected, “I brought some of my project equipment, so I can keep working while here.” As he spoke, he moved towards the kitchen area, Sam and Bucky following slowly behind. Steve would softly touch some of the artwork they passed, like it specifically reminded him of his sister. Funny, since he had barely been at the Malibu home. “We just came from a meeting with the lawyers. According to them we have about three weeks, before the court finalizes everything. After which point, I can move the kids with me back to New York.”

Bucky felt his world shift under his feet. Of course Steve would want to uproot the children for the sake of his work. Did he even fucking _care_ about what they were going through? How much it would affect them to leave everything they’d known — everything that reminded them of their _parents_ — behind? Just to go to some big, noisy city?

He bit his tongue, trying to keep his anger from fueling his next words. If Steve wanted to take the kids to New York, Bucky really didn’t have much of a say. “I’ll inform my team that they need to start sorting things and be prepared to move. JARVIS, can you contact the New York team and have them begin preparing the penthouse? We’ll need the playroom upgraded to current specifications for Peter.”

_“Very well, sir,”_ JARVIS responded, causing Sam to startle a bit and look towards the ceiling.

Bucky motioned around them, “AI system that Tony invented. Always operating. He’ll assist with any needs or information that might arise. Like, if you get lost in the house or need to call one of our team.”

“It’s a bit of a nuisance,” Steve grumbled.

Right. Bucky had forgotten about Steve being anti-Tony. Of course, it wasn’t hard to understand why — a lot of people were anti-Tony until they got to understand his idiosyncrasies (which took spending more than a couple hours every year with the guy).

Bucky missed him. 

“I—”

Steve slapped a hand down on the counter and looked up, interrupting whatever Bucky was about to say. “You can let the nanny know we won’t be needing them. As for a tutor, I’ve already started researching private schools in New York, so that Morgan can get a real education and make friends. I’ll meet with the tutor to see where she’s at academically, and then we’ll move onto the new options.”

He felt his blood start to boil, and knew that any sense he had to remain calm, was quickly leaving. “Let me get this straight — these two small kids, who have recently lost _everything_ in their world… you want to take them away from not only the only _home_ they’ve ever known, but two of their favorite people, as well? I’m guessing you think that being a hands-on parent will be better for the children? Gonna change all of the diapers and feed all the bottles?”

“Well—”

"No, let me say this," Bucky said. He was started, he definitely had to get it out. "This place? We are a family. Everyone that works here would lay down their lives for these kids. Everyone on my crew has changed their share of dirty diapers. Yes, Phil is officially their nanny, but before Peter's arrival, he was one of my men. He took over the job because he felt he could protect better by being right there with the children. And Thor? Morgan's tutor? Has four master's degrees and has already taught her three languages. In fact, she's almost fluent in her fourth language, because she's getting pretty good at conversing with Clint in sign language. 

So I get that you're grieving. I get that you probably blame Tony, and by association everyone that worked for him, for Pepper's death… but maybe take a few weeks to see how things run here, before you go changing everything, yeah? Kids are resilient, yes, but too much change at once is not a good thing. And right now, I guarantee that Morgan will start acting out if you fight her too much."

* * *

"He's such an egotistical asshole! Just as bad as Tony was." Steve grabbed another handful of his clothing and transferred it from his suitcase to the dresser in the room he'd been given.

Sam sat on the bed, half watching what Steve was doing, and half focused on his tablet. "I understand where he's coming from, a bit."

"I swear that he told the kids not to like me. Even the baby cried when I tried to hold him."

"I think that's just how babies are?"

"And Morgan! I talked to her just a couple months ago and she acted like she'd never seen me before."

"Christmas was six months ago."

"I don't care what Barnes says, I am not living here a moment longer than I have to. The kids will love New York. Can't be anymore impersonal than this glass fortress."

"Their playroom was kind of neat, did you see the trains?"

"Can you imagine how difficult it would be to completely move our study out here? It'd be impossible! Bruce would hate L.A."

"Bruce hates New York."

"No. I'm going forward with my plans. It's hard enough dealing with all of this on top of Pepper and…"

Suddenly, Steve was wrapped up into a tight embrace. "It is okay to be upset. You just lost your sister… no one is expecting you to keep a brave face through all of this."

Steve burrowed into Sam and fought off tears. "This is Tony's fault! He took her away from home. Away from me."

It really wasn’t Tony’s fault, a voice whispered inside of his head. It was his fault, and that was exactly why he was so angry. He had gotten so focused on his research, in the last few years, that he hadn’t spent enough time with Pepper and her family… and now, what was left? The kids hated him and his sister was gone.

At least Sam was there to help him stay sane.

* * *

Natasha read him the riot act, when she got on duty. Apparently he was being too tough on Rogers and needed to lay off. _’They’re his kids now, like it or not.’_

Taking a step back and allowing Rogers to take control was… _not_ easy. But Natasha was right. Rogers was the new guardian, and Bucky had to allow him the same respect that he gave Pepper and Tony as parents. 

Even if it made him ill.

"Bucky?"

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to psyche himself up for a day of watching Rogers become 'dad'... when he heard the voice of one of his favorite people. He looked up, smiling at Morgan standing in his doorway. "To what do I owe the pleasure, sweets?"

She crossed the room and quickly wrapped herself around him. "You won't leave me too, will you?"

Her small body was shaking, emotions too large to keep inside. He brushed his fingers through her hair and kissed her forehead. "Why would you say that, Meguna?"

"I heard Natasha telling you that you should give uncle Steve more time with us. That he's the boss now, and you have no say."

Of course. Well, it was more likely that Morgan had added an override in JARVIS's programming so that she could listen in on important adult conversations. Unfortunately, without Tony there to outwit the kid, she was going to keep outsmarting them all in similar ways. "Natasha is correct. Your mom left a document that says in case anything happens to her, your uncle Steve would be the one to take care of you and your brother. We will all still be here to help, but you're going to have to get used to Steve being the boss."

"But—"

"It'll be okay, Meguna. This is what mommy wanted. That is what matters most. And I will still be here for you. Always. Your daddy wanted you to always have a protector. So that is what we will do. Me. Natasha. Clint. Everyone. We will protect you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: I'm a fulltime nanny for a 3yo and a 15 month old. Most of Peter's character is based on the baby I'm around most of my week. :)

There was a list of instructions. A meal plan. A bottle schedule. A nap timeline. 

Half of the bottom floor of the mansion was devoted to the children (Steve was told the other half was a garage/workshop). The focal point of the space was a large playroom looking out over the ocean. To the left was Morgan's classroom and a small bedroom in case she wanted to lay down but didn't want to go up to her actual bedroom. To the right was a duplicate version of Peter's nursery (identical to the main one upstairs), where he could nap, before playing. There was also a small kitchen that allowed for easy access to meals, bottles, and snacks. 

Steve was shown all of this on his first day in Malibu, but didn't really get to experience it until day three… which was a Sunday, and apparently the off day for both the nanny and tutor. Apparently it was Barnes's normal day with the kids, but he showed up bright and early to Steve and Sam's bedroom — five _fucking_ a.m. — with a screaming Peter in his arms. 

"Wha—"

Steve was still wiping the sleep from his eyes when his nephew was thrust into his arms.

"Welcome to a crash course in parenting. He'll need a diaper change and bottle. JARVIS has the schedule if you need it. Morgan will be up in either ten minutes or forty… depending on how fast you get Peter to stop crying." Barnes gave him a ridiculous smirk. "Have fun."

“Wait—”

It was too late. Barnes threw a wave over his shoulder before ducking into the bedroom that was apparently his own. Steve’s eyes bugged out a bit as he focused his attention back on his nephew. _Fuck._ The kid just continued to stare at him and scream.

“I think you have to do something other than just stare at him,” Sam commented. Steve looked over to see his partner sitting up against the headboard of the bed. 

Rolling his eyes, he flipped Sam off before carrying Peter back down to the nursery. He had never changed a diaper before, but how bad could it possibly be? A few velcro-y things, some wipes. Was baby powder actually a thing that was needed? Or was that just on the movies?

There was a changing table in the nursery that was equipped with a slew of products. He laid Peter down before starting at the beginning… with the zipper that seemed to keep the whole outfit in place. The screams had calmed a bit, but there were still little hiccuped cries of displeasure.

When he finally had access to the diaper, he undid the velcro bits and pulled it back, only to instantly gag and cry out, “What the fuck!”

Why was it _purple_?!

* * *

A few doors down, Bucky sat on his bed watching a projected feed of the nursery and laughing his ass off. Had he purposefully made sure that beets were on Peter’s menu the day before? _Maybe._

He continued to watch for the next half hour, through Peter’s changing and Morgan’s crying when she realized that she had to deal with _Steve_ instead of someone she actually liked. It was right about that point that he knew he’d seen enough and he had to move on or he would just sit and wallow in his own self-pity.

He carefully made his way through the house so that the kids wouldn’t see him, and escaped out the side door to make his way to the guest house — where the majority of the security staff lived. Well… Natasha, Clint, and Scott. The others had places in the city that they would go home to. Scott was on duty at the gate, and Clint was sleeping ahead of his scheduled night rotation, leaving Natasha and Thor as the only ones in the house. Whether Thor was there or not was usually hit or miss. He spent his weeks in the main house, and days off either there or chasing waves along the coast.

Bucky moved to the kitchen area and began making himself a cup of coffee with Clint’s fancy french press thing.

“You been watching this feed?” Nat asked from her spot on the sofa. 

He looked over his shoulder, across the open concept living space to where Natasha and Thor were watching the video feed from the playroom, where Steve was trying unsuccessfully to convince Morgan to wear clothes. 

The microwave beeped above his head, and he opened it to find a bag of popcorn steaming. He rolled his eyes, dumped the popcorn into a bowl, and carried it and his cup of coffee over to the sofa. He sat down beside Natasha and held the bowl out to her. “Morgan was dressed when I left the house.”

“Oh yeah, she’s in a mood. Wants to experiment but Steve has no idea what that means, so she fought back by stripping down to her underwear and starting to argue.”

Bucky snorted, taking a long drink of his coffee and propping his feet up on the coffee table. “Been there.” He motioned to Thor, who was half watching, half studying some weird book on Norse mythology. “Remember the great Bucky Bear meltdown of two years ago?”

Thor looked up, eyes wide. “I have never seen a child so wrathful.”

“Should we warn Steve about Bucky Bear?” Natasha asked.

They were all silent for a long moment, before Bucky finally laughed and shook his head. “Fuck, no.”

The rest of the morning was spent mostly like that. At some point Thor left — _”High tide at Zuma.”_ — and Clint showed up, cradling a 7-11 Super Gulp cup he had converted for coffee use. Bucky had asked him once why he loved the stupid plastic cup with fabric and stryofoam glued around it, in favor of something like an _actual_ cup built for hot liquids, but Clint had just glared at him and walked away. 

Actually… Bucky looked over to the opposite couch where Clint was spread out. “Tony made that.” 

Clint arched an eyebrow in Bucky’s direction. “Wha’?”

“Your cup. Tony made it your first Christmas here, right? Wasn’t it supposed to be a gag gift?”

Clint’s head laid back down, but Natasha answered for him. “The original broke. That is the second one, that looks even worse than the first.”

Eyes still closed, cup still held close, Clint finally said, “I fucking miss him.”

Bucky waited and waited in the silence that followed Clint’s statement, before he finally swallowed back his own emotions and nodded his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I do too.”

There was another beat, at which point Steve was on screen trying to convince Morgan to eat lunch, before Clint suddenly shot up on the couch. He held his precious cup close, but looked wildly between Bucky and Natasha. “Holy shit.” A few blinks at Nat, before settling his gaze on Bucky. “Holy _shit._ ”

“Told you,” Natasha mumbled.

“Holy shit!”

Bucky was confused. He looked next to him, hoping Nat had answers, but she had started cleaning her knife collection at some point and wasn’t really paying attention. Bucky sighed and looked back to Clint. “What, dare I ask, has you so excited?”

“You.” Clint blinked, like he was seeing something for the first time in his life. “You and Tony. You were a thing.” Then… “Aww.” He looked back to Natasha. “Fifty? Is it still fifty?”

“Mmm.”

“Payday.”

_Oh._ Bucky hung his head, bringing his hand up to rub at the spot on his head that always hurt when he spent a prolonged time around Clint. “Did you two bet on my sex life again?”

“It’s been four years,” Natasha answered calmly. “It just took smaller minds a while to see it.”

Bucky snorted. _Four years._ If only they knew.

* * *

Over the next week, Morgan's attitude got progressively worse. It wasn't around Barnes or any of the staff, though, it was specifically geared towards Steve and Sam. She refused to eat anything that they gave her, screamed and kicked whenever they tried to get her to sleep, and Steve was almost certain she was the culprit creating mix-ups in Peter's food.

He bit his tongue and let it all happen though. Sometimes Sam, with his voice of reason, reminded Steve that she was just a kid who was scared of him.

Midway through week two, he decided to go off script and start making his own rules. When dinner time hit, he chased his own cravings and made a Florentine quiche — one of his mother’s favorite recipes. He had to have Sam go out and get all of the needed ingredients because apparently it wasn’t in his imagination that they hadn’t had eggs all week, because there weren’t any eggs in the house.

When dinnertime hit and they were all four sitting around the small table in the kitchen, he served small bits of the quiche to each of the kids, making sure to cut it into tiny bites for the baby like instructed on the paperwork.

“What is this?” Morgan asked, poking at the bits on her plate.

“It’s called quiche,” Steve answered. He expected Morgan to fuss, so he didn’t offer her much of his attention — instead, he watched as Peter took a few cautious bites.

It was about the time that tears bloomed in Peter’s eyes, and his face started getting red, that Steve heard an alarm sound throughout the house. The kitchen patio door was quickly tossed open and Barnes rushed in, looking frantic as he rushed to the fridge, before moving back to the high chair and popping the cap off of an epi pen. Steve, frozen in shock and fear, watched as both Morgan and Peter started to cry out of fear of what had just happened. 

Barnes pulled Peter out of the high chair and held him close as he cried, the boy clinging to him like a lifeline. Morgan, angry tears on her face, stood up on a chair and pointed an accusatory finger at Steve. “He tried to _poison_ us! Bucky! Bucky he tried to _kill_ Petey!”

Barnes was gently rocking Peter, shushing and humming as he did. The redhead had rushed in seconds after Bucky, Steve noticed. She was standing a few feet back, waiting for instructions. Barnes turned to her. "Nat, why don't you and Clint take Morgan to get pizza at the cove."

Morgan didn't hesitate to jump off her chair and rush out of the house with Natasha.

"JARVIS?" Barnes asked.

_"Levels have settled. Respiratory systems have normalized and the reaction seems to have been minor, controlled quickly by the epinephrine."_

"Cancel protocol 27, J."

Everything had happened so quickly that Steve had stood next to his chair and watched it all in utter shock. As the adrenaline faded, though, a mixture of anger and fear started to blossom inside of him. "Was it not _pertinent_ information to tell me that he had an egg allergy?"

Barnes stared at him for a long, cold moment, before he carried Peter to the fridge and rifled around inside of it. He stood back up holding a sippable baby food packet, which he opened and held out to Peter. The baby babbled a couple times, before happily taking the pack and beginning to sip on it. Suddenly Barnes's attention was back on Steve. "We put together an information packet. Guidelines. A schedule. Meal options. Page two has a list of allergies… eggs for Peter, sesame and cow's milk for Morgan. They also both have skin reactions when Tide is used."

Steve thought about the packet of papers sitting beside his bed that he had started reading, before he got upset at how it made him feel like an outsider that didn't know his own family. He'd thrown it back down and ignored it after that.

_Shit._

"I didn't—"

"Didn't find it unusual that there were no eggs in the house?"

"I thought you were out."

Barnes opened his mouth like he wanted to say more… he honestly looked like he wanted to lay into Steve. But Peter said something to gain back his attention and Bucky shook his head. "I'm going to take him downstairs and make some mac and cheese for him. You two can have dinner alone. And you can have tomorrow off, because there is no way I'm going to be able to convince Morgan to stay with you until she calms down, and Peter likes to cling after an attack."

"I didn't—" Steve wanted to argue but Sam reached out and laid a hand on his arm. The meaning was clear… _'not now.'_

* * *

Steve was miserable for the rest of the evening. He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling while Sam sat next to him reading on his tablet. 

"I shouldn't be doing this," Steve whispered. "I should just go home. Sign over custody to Barnes and walk away. The kids hate me. I'm a terrible excuse for a parent. It's just going to get worse. Fuck… if Barnes hadn't been there, what would have happened?"

He _maybe_ was having a panic attack. Sam set his tablet aside and laid down facing Steve. "Hey. Do you think every parent gets it right the first time? I'm guessing it wasn't pretty when they found out about Peter's allergy in the first place."

"Probably," he mumbled. 

"This is what your sister wanted. If she didn't think it was the best idea, would she have done it?"

Steve sighed, snuggling closer to Sam. "No."

"My momma always said that if kids were supposed to be easy, God wouldn't have required two adults to create them. And these kids are smarter than they have any right to be. You're outnumbered and outgunned. I think you need to stop trying to be their parents and just be their uncle. Be Steve. They'll appreciate that."

Steve, his face buried against Sam's bare chest, took a deep breath and finally started to relax. "Thank you for being here."

"Honestly? Seeing you changing purple poop explosions made it all worth it."


	3. Chapter 3

Since Barnes had taken the kids for the day, Steve and Sam finally took the time to set up a temporary lab. It seemed to make the most sense to set up in Tony's old workshop, which had some of the equipment they needed. Once everything was up and running, they patched through the conference system and caught up with Bruce to check on his progress back in New York. 

From there, they got to work.

The main goal of their project was to create a serum to eradicate cancer cells using gamma radiation. There was also a hope that an off-shoot of the main serum might help to reestablish muscle mass in patients dealing with a loss from illness.

They were _so close_ to a breakthrough. One of the reasons why he had been desperate to bring his equipment with him to California. 

While Sam and Bruce talked numbers and reactions, Steve focused on blending a few chemicals to test. He had been chasing an idea for about a week, without the means to do much more than write out his thoughts, so now that he had an opportunity, he was going to get as much done as possible. 

At some point Sam left to make lunch. Steve waved him off, too focused to stop. 

He used a syringe to gather the fluid, ready to inject it into their human prototype form, when the door burst open and a high pitched voice screamed, "What the _fuck_ are you doing!" Startled, his hand slipped, and a second later he was staring in shock at the injected blue liquid running through his arm, beneath the skin.

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" Morgan was screaming, running at him and slamming her small fist into his arm. "Get the _fuck_ out of here! It isn't yours! Get out! Get out!"

"Morgan!" That was Bucky's voice, he was sure, but everything was getting a little fuzzy. Blurring at the edges.

"JARVIS! Remove access to this location from all unauthorized parties!" Morgan was still screaming.

Why did it feel like he was in a bubble? Why were his veins a vivid blue beneath his skin?

_"Sir,"_ the AI spoke, _"I believe Master Rogers is going to require medical attention."_

Oh. _Master._ Why was he laughing? Why was that so funny? Why was the room moving?

* * *

It was right about the time that Steve's small body hit the ground, that Bucky realized something was wrong. He had been changing Peter's diaper when he lost track of Morgan. He heard her screaming a minute later and passed off the baby to Phil before running after Morgan. 

Steve and Sam had apparently decided to use Tony's workshop as their makeshift lab. To be fair, it was the perfect location… if you didn't factor in that Morgan had refused to let anyone into the space since she learned of her father's disappearance. He swooped in to grab the little spitfire, right about the time that Steve toppled out of his chair and passed out.

"Shit." 

"JARVIS, get Clint and Thor here with the med pack."

Sam slid into the room holding a plate with a sandwich on it. "Oh fuck," he said, tossing the plate onto the desk and rushing at Steve. 

"Morgan, Code 52, now."

"But—"

"Morgan H. Stark, do not make me ask twice." Bucky waited for her to leave the workshop, before he dropped down onto the floor next to Steve and Sam. "What were you working with? It looks like he injected it when Morgan surprised him."

"He was working on his own compounds. I'd have to decipher his notes to find the exact formula and a counteractive agent."

Clint and Thor showed up, carrying the large med kit that they kept on hand for all Tony-related explosions. Bucky moved out of the way and pulled Sam back as well. "Clint and Thor are our registered EMTs, they're in charge of all science related injuries and will assess Steve's condition before deciding if he needs to be transferred. Right now, I need you to be looking at those formulas and inputting data to JARVIS. If possible, he can examine the liquid directly if there is any available."

* * *

They didn't move Steve to the hospital. Instead, once they had deemed him not dying, Thor picked him up and carried him upstairs to his room. Sam, JARVIS, and Bruce through satellite interface, were trying to find the exact components still. Bucky watched Clint and Thor having a discussion about Steve's respiratory numbers, before finally turning and heading back downstairs to the kid's playroom. 

Phil looked up when Bucky walked in. He was sitting in a rocking chair, reading a book to Peter while gently rocking him. Bucky glanced at the wall clock and realized it was somehow already afternoon naptime.

Peter looked up at Steve and grinned. "Pou' pou'!" The boy said, voice happy but sleepy.

"P is for pout pout fish," Bucky replied, making the boy laugh. Bucky brushed a hand over his soft hair and leaned down to kiss his head. "Have a good nap, kiddo."

"She's in her room," Phil said, continuing to rock the baby. "Hasn't come out."

Bucky nodded and moved in that direction. 

Morgan sat on her bed, clutching tightly to a stuffed caffeine molecule that Tony had bought as a joke, right after she was born. She had been crying, judging by the redness to her face and eyes, and she avoided looking at him, even though he knew she knew he was there. It was only when he was sitting on the mattress next to her, that he realized what she was watching. On the opposite wall was a projection of Steve's room, where Clint was hovering near Steve's unconscious body.

"He can't— Bucky. He can't go in there," she whispered. 

The workshop was Morgan's last tie to her father, the one memory winding through her mind that would always shine strong. And who was Bucky to take that away? He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. "I will talk to Steve and Sam about finding a better spot. Maybe they can use that old artist shed."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Unfortunately, Mook, this is way above my paygrade. I have no idea what he was studying or how it could affect him. But Clint and Thor know what they're doing, and Sam is already working with JARVIS to understand more. So we will have to wait and see, I guess."

"I don't like him," she mumbled. "I don't want him dead, but I don't like him. He didn't like daddy. And he doesn't like us."

"I'm not sure that's true. He's trying. If he really didn't like you, he wouldn't be here at all. But he is your family, and he's doing his best." He ran his fingers gently through her hair. "You remember the story I told you about the first time your mom left you and your dad alone?"

He felt her tiny shoulders lift up and down in a mockery of a shrug. In kid language it meant: 'I know but go ahead and tell me anyways.' "Four times… he tried to have emergency services called _four times_. He kept asking JARVIS if he was burping you properly, if he had mixed the proper amount of formula powder. At one point he had schematics pulled up to show him how to properly snap your pajamas.”

He felt teardrops falling on his skin and bit his lip to keep from giving in and crying right along with her. Bucky shifted the girl, pulling her into his lap so he could hold her as close as possible. He kissed her temple, and stopped holding back his own feelings. “JARVIS…” he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, “goodnight moon protocol.”

It took a moment for JARVIS to initiate the protocol, and when he did, another voice began to fill the room.

_”In the great green room..”_ Morgan gasped, but made no other sound as Tony continued reading the book. 

As he read, and they both cried, Bucky imagined the scene playing out, watching Tony reading to a baby Morgan and clicking a few keys on his tablet to have JARVIS record the moment. He hadn’t brought it up since they had lost Tony… too heartbroken to deal with it or any other recordings of the man. But it was something that Morgan needed.

Maybe it was something that they both needed, at that moment.

* * *

Steve woke up sometime around midnight, his heart racing and his lungs breathing deeper than they ever had before. He sat bolt upright in bed, startling both Sam and Clint, who had been sitting nearby to keep an eye on him. Something — _everything_ — felt different. He needed to examine it. Needed to test what had happened. Had the serum actually worked? 

“Steve?”

He waved off the voice without acknowledging who spoke. Instead, he had jumped out of bed and with a wild laugh, went rushing out of the room and down the stairs. He wasn’t out of breath! His back didn’t hurt! _Nothing_ hurt!

There were footsteps behind him that he ignored as he traversed two levels down to where they had set up the lab. Unfortunately, when he put his hand on the keypad to open the door, a redlight flashed. He growled in annoyance and tried again. 

_"I'm afraid that Miss Morgan has removed access for all unauthorized entrants to the garage,_ " JARVIS said, voice as calm and neutral as always.

"She's _five._ She doesn't get to remove access!" He replied back to the damn ceiling.

_"Miss Morgan has administrative level authority when it comes to access provisions."_

He threw his hands into the air in frustration. "I'm supposed to have that authority!"

"Your lab equipment was moved to the artist studio outside."

He turned to see Bucky standing against the entrance to the children's playroom. Look as suave and debonair as always. Fuck him! "It's a garage. What is the problem with us using it? He isn't coming back!"

Bucky’s face changed immediately, going darker, angrier. “Yeah, well, she’s _five_ , as you so elegantly put it. She doesn’t handle her father’s death by just pretending it didn’t fucking happen. And considering that lab is the last thing she has connected to his memory, that isn’t tainted by her asshole uncle, I’m gonna side with her on this one. Your buddy back there can show you to the fucking shed.” Bucky nodded behind Steve, before going back into the playroom and slamming the door shut behind him.

Steve spun to see Sam standing at the bottom of the stairs watching him like he was insane. _”What?”_ he growled. “Did I do something else wrong? What’s new?”

“How are you standing? I spent most of the day thinking you wouldn’t wake up. Bruce is running calculations back in New York and says you’re fucking insane.”

“I don’t know, Sam, but whatever serum I injected… it _worked._ I can breathe fully for the first time in my life. My back doesn’t hurt? I mean I ran down those stairs! Did you see that?!”

“I did.”

“We gotta get out there. We gotta compile the rest of this data and start doing more studies on it, because we have _finally_ hit paydirt.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've had this one written, because I'm a couple chapters ahead... but chapter 6 has decided to be a bit of a bitch, so I'm going to go ahead and post this, instead of waiting to finish that one first.

It was a Tuesday, when he got a call from a friend at Kandahar. "You still working for Stark?"

Bucky couldn't help but be confused. He hadn't had much contact with that particular friend since he was stationed overseas, which meant that word had circled about his current job. Which wasn't much of a surprise — bored military personnel liked to gossip — but still threw him for a loop. "I am. In California, at the moment."

"I've called in a few favors and got you a ride on a bus leaving Edwards at 1600. I need you to be on it, Sergeant."

He glanced to his left, as if the view of the Pacific ocean would give him answers. "Why?"

Rhodey's voice crackled a little on the connection, but his next words were clear as day. "Because we just pulled Tony Stark out of the desert. He's alive."

His heart stuttered to a stop and suddenly Bucky couldn't remember how to breathe. "Repeat. That."

"Get on the bus, Barnes. Stark is in rough shape and he needs a friendly face. 1600." 

"Cancel the ride. I'll bring the personal jet. He won't want to fly home on anything else. I'll be there soon." 

"10-4." The call disconnected and Bucky dropped to his knees. Shit. It couldn't be! How… god, he wanted to cry. 

He gave himself ten minutes to get his shit together (literally and figuratively), as well as a moment to call the pilots and get then prepared, before he snuck out of the main house without the kids seeing. He found Natasha at the gatehouse and motioned for JARVIS to cut the feeds as he slid the door closed behind him. Her eyebrows raised but she remained silent.

"I need you to take point for a few days."

" _Okay._ "

"A friend in the desert just called to tell me they picked Tony up. _Alive._ " 

Natasha looked shocked, more emotion on her face then Bucky had ever seen before. "Bullshit."

"This isn't the kind of friend that would pull that mean of a prank." Bucky prayed that none of his friends were that evil. "I've got the jet prepped, wheels up in thirty."

Natasha's gaze flickered over his shoulder, causing Bucky to turn and see the video feed playing of the kids in their playroom. _Fuck._ Natasha spoke, "If you don't tell her goodbye, she's going to flip out."

"If I _do_ tell her goodbye, she's going to flip out. I tried to go to the store last week and she cried for thirty minutes." He shook his head. He hated to leave Morgan but also, "I can't take her to a fucking warzone. And you know she'll figure out a way to sneak on the damn plane, Nat."

"Go on. I'll take care of interference. Maybe once you know his condition, you can video chat with us. She'll forgive you if it means getting him back."

Bucky nodded, tossing the strap of his duffel over his shoulder. "Don't tell anyone else where I'm going. Apparently he's in rough shape. I don't want hopes up if I'm coming home with a body." He flicked one more glance up at the kids. "I'm also not prepared for whatever drama this will create with Steve."

* * *

It was a sixteen hour flight to Kandahar, a little less with the tailwinds pushing them along. Bucky was practically pacing the jet the entire sixteen hours. His heart hurt… worrying about what he was about to face, and what he had just left behind. Morgan was going to freak when she realized he was gone.

They were somewhere over Asia when suddenly the comm link made a noise and a projection screen popped up in front of his chair. 

A very pissed off five year old (she had her hands on her hips!) was staring at him. "Where are you?" Morgan demanded.

Well… _shit._

"Hello Miss Morgan. Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"Aren't you supposed to be _here_?" She threw back at him.

“Meguna—”

“Don’t you ‘Meguna’ me! James Buchanan Barnes, _where are you?_ ” 

God, she sounded like his mother… “Right now? In the air over Bhutan?”

“Bucky.”

He rubbed his hands over his face and back through his hair, before finally looking to Morgan H. Stark and knowing he had no power against that damn face. “I got a call from a friend. He thinks he’s found your dad.”

Morgan swallowed, looked to her right (probably at a second screen that she had JARVIS controlling), before looking back at him. “If you don’t come home, I’m hacking the Pentagon and launching a full scale war.”

“You can’t—”

“I can, and I will. You have forty-eight hours to reestablish contact! And I’m not going easy on _Steve_ just because you aren’t here.” She huffed a bit, finally showing a bit of her age. “You promised, Bucky. You promised you wouldn’t leave me too.”

His heart clenched, but he nodded. “Forty-eight hours, doll. You have my word.” He waited another beat, before smiling. “Now go to bed. Don’t make me initiate lockdown protocols, because you know I can.”

“I erased those two weeks ago!”

“I know, which is why they were redeveloped and strengthened a week ago. _Go to bed._ I love you, sweetheart.”

Morgan smiled, the tips of her ears turning a bit rose colored. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

* * *

It did something strange to his brain, to be back in Afghanistan. Weaker men probably would have cried over being forced into such a situation, but thankfully Bucky had something specific to focus his mind and emotions on. When he left the private jet, he was met by a private who quickly led him to a waiting car. Thirty minutes later and he was being dropped off at the same damn hospital that he had spent time in…

“Sergeant Barnes,” a voice spoke.

He turned, falling into a salute without even realizing what was happening. “Colonel Rhodes, sir.”

“At ease, soldier. We’ve got your man under protection in the critical unit. Although, I’m going to be honest when I tell you that he looks a lot better than I would expect, after three months in captivity.” As they walked, Rhodes handed over a folder. “List of base injuries. He refused to speak with our psychology team, so it has been recommended that follow ups happen as soon as he’s stateside.”

Bucky handed off the folder to a nurse that was following them through the hospital. “All due respect, sir, right now I’m just worried about verifying with my own eyes that he’s alive.”

Rhodes slowed, nodding to a couple of men, before pushing a door open, “Go ahead, then, sergeant.”

He took a shaky breath, not sure what to expect when he stepped into that hospital room. He had dealt with nightmares that played out similarly and they were never a pretty sight…

But real life Tony Stark was sitting in a hospital bed, looking a little banged up with a few scrapes on his face, and a large bandage around his bare chest. He was holding a cup of jello, glaring at it as he scraped a spoon along the bottom to get the last of it. 

Bucky choked on a sob, barely aware of Rhodes closing the door behind him.

Tony looked up at the sound and his entire face lit up. "Bucky!"

He crossed the room in a rush, carefully wrapping his arms around Tony in a hug. "God, we thought you were dead."

The jello got dropped somewhere on the bed, as Tony’s arms quickly wrapped around him as well. “Was pretty sure of that myself, most days.”

They held onto each other as minutes passed, and when Bucky finally forced himself to pull back, he brushed a kiss to the corner of Tony’s mouth. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me? Any overseas trips will forever have me on your six, from now on. Got it?”

Tony smiled, just a little. “Got it. Now… please tell me you brought the jet, so I don’t have to fly home in an uncomfortable military plane…”

“I did. It was refueling and preparing for take-off as soon as we got back. Let’s get you out of this place.”

* * *

They were in the air just long enough to level out, before Tony was raiding Bucky’s bag of clothes for something comfortable to change into. Bucky was running on about twenty percent brain capacity, after spending the whole prior day in the air, and being forced right back onto the plane. He was hopeful that Tony would want to snuggle on the bed in the back once he calmed down a bit.

“How are the kids?” Tony asked, stripping out of the Army regs they’d given him to leave the hospital in. All of the flight crew were up front, told that they would be requested if needed. Which apparently meant that Tony had no problem stripping out of his clothes in the middle of the plane. 

Bucky’s attention was so focused on mapping out each bruise and scratch on Tony’s body, that it took him a few moments to realize a question had been asked. When he finally did, he swallowed hard, reaching for the bottle of water that had been provided before take-off. “As good as can be expected, after what they’ve dealt with the past few months. Morgan is the current boss of the house, and Peter has everyone wrapped around his finger.”

“So not much has changed.” Tony snagged the extra pair of Bucky’s boxers and pulled them on, before pulling on the worn out MIT sweatpants that had been shoved in the bag last second. Those were actually Tony’s… but they had always ended up back in Bucky’s room, after they spent nights together. Eventually they just became a permanent resident of Bucky’s dresser drawer. Finally, Tony pulled a soft t-shirt over his bare chest, and sat down in the chair facing Bucky. “And Pepper? I’m guessing she got pretty emotional with all of this. She told me not to take this trip. I’m surprised she didn’t fly here to drag me back herself.”

There it was. Bucky shook his head and watched as his hands trembled. How was he supposed to… “About four weeks ago there was an accident on the 101. Pepper was on her way home from work when a guy going too fast in a Mercedes lost control and jumped into her lane.”

He couldn’t make himself look up at Tony’s face, but he could easily hear the tension in his voice. “Bucky—”

“She died that night, at the hospital.”

There was no response. When he finally looked up at Tony, the other man was staring out the window, elbow on the armrest and fist against his mouth. There were emotions on his face that Bucky had never seen before. Pain. _Loss._ Bucky ducked his head and remained quiet, allowing Tony the chance to get through all of his thoughts.

"What happened to the other driver?"

Bucky looked up, blinking. It had been more than a few minutes of silence, and he had zoned out. "Was some dumb kid. Twenty-something. Charged with reckless endangerment and manslaughter."

"Ah."

"Steve Rogers is at the house currently. Lawyers went over Pepper's will and granted him custody."

"Not you?" Bucky met Tony's gaze and shook his head. Tony looked confused. "She must have changed that. I wonder why—"

"Tony…"

"Not yet, Buck. Please. Just… not yet."

Bucky nodded. He wasn't sure which topic Tony was trying to avoid (the three months in captivity, or Pepper's death), but he could understand that it would take a while to process both. Bucky motioned over his shoulder. "I've been awake for around twenty-six hours straight. Why don't we go lay down in the back?"

Tony looked back out the window for a moment, before finally standing. "Alright but no snoring."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little something to keep everyone happy (HAH) while they're stuck in isolation!

They got home in the middle of the night. Tony’s leg kept bouncing up and down and the anxious feeling in the car was almost palpable. Scott was on overnight gate duty, and when he looked into the car and saw the man in the passenger seat, his eyes bugged out and all he could do was wave slowly as they drove past. 

Bucky wasn’t sure what to expect in the house. Steve had been left in charge of the children on his own for nearly three full days… which could either equal insanity or calm.

He parked the car in the garage and they just sat there for a moment in the quiet. He turned, watching Tony stare at his workshop. It made Bucky remember the hysteria that had erupted when Steve and Sam tried to use the space. “Tell me what you need,” Bucky whispered.

“I want to see the kids.”

“Okay.”

“And tomorrow I’m calling a press conference. No more weapons.”

“Why don’t we wake Morgan up for midnight popsicles? Remember when we used to do that?”

Tony gave one simple nod, and they both took that moment and exited the car. Once they were in the workshop, Bucky asked JARVIS for a status report on the children. From there, they went up the two flights of stairs and directly to Morgan’s bedroom. Bucky left Tony standing nervously in the hallway, and moved into the room to sit gently down on the edge of Morgan’s bed. His hand reached out, brushing her hair away from her face. “Miss Morgan.” She stirred, rolled, but didn’t wake. 

He was about to try again, when a hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up at Tony, who shook his head. Instead of waking the girl, Tony moved around the bed and laid down in the empty space next to her, his arms curling around her body and his nose buried in her hair. Bucky smiled sadly for a moment, before standing up and leaving the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

He crossed over to his own room, but knew that he wasn’t tired enough to sleep, so he pulled out his tablet and began going over the things that had transpired in the house while he was gone.

* * *

At seven the next morning, a scream jolted him awake. He was still holding his tablet, sitting up in bed, but had apparently dozed off at some point. He tossed the tablet aside and rushed out into the hall, only to find Steve standing a step from Morgan’s open door, holding Peter and looking like he’d seen a ghost…

Which was probably a fair reaction.

Peter wiggled and wiggled until Steve put him down, and then he rushed into Morgan’s room on still wobbly legs, happily saying ‘Daddy’ over and over as he went. Bucky leaned forward so that he could see around the door jam into Morgan’s room. Morgan was awake, wrapped like an octopus around Tony’s body. Tony managed to avoid jostling her as he reached down and picked Peter up as well. There were tears falling down his face as he kissed anywhere he could find on the boy’s face and head. 

“How?” Steve asked quietly.

Bucky pulled Morgan’s door shut, so that Tony and his kids could have a few moments of peace together. Then he motioned with his head towards the stairs. “Coffee first.”

* * *

"A hostage. In an Iraqi war monger's camp. How the fuck did he get out?"

Bucky sipped his coffee and leaned back against the counter, avoiding both Steve and Sam's gaze. "His story to tell. But he was injured, and now he's going to be dealing with some serious PTSD, not to mention the traumatic news he came home to."

Steve looked uneasy, as he scratched at the back of his neck. "We'll book a flight home. You guys are going to have enough to deal with, without us being in the way."

It was both a solid idea and a predictable one, but something about Steve leaving so quickly, made Bucky feel uneasy. Almost as if something was going to happen and they would need him nearby. "Finish out the week, eh? Maybe walking away so quickly wouldn't be as helpful as we expect."

Steve and Sam both agreed and the household fell into a weird balance over the next few days. Bucky, despite having an entire staff of well trained security agents, couldn't handle the idea of letting Tony go anywhere without him. Which meant falling back into a routine of long hours spent at SI. And there was something brewing there, after the announcement that they would be eliminating all weapons contracts, that had Bucky feeling ridiculously uneasy.

It was that unease that had him monitoring all developments of Tony's new 'project'... even when Tony tried inputting a code in JARVIS' system that should be keeping people out. No one worried about Tony's safety more than Bucky… except for, maybe, JARVIS.

He kept his mouth shut and watched helplessly on his tablet as Tony began taking his new suit out for test runs. When hours were devoted to destroying all of the remaining terrorist encampments, he pretended that he didn't know who was responsible. Tony was in pain, dealing with more mentally than Bucky knew how to fix. But he knew the man well enough to know that pushing him wouldn't help. He had to run himself ragged before he would break. 

Then suddenly Stane was there and Bucky realized why he had felt so uneasy. Because of course everything had been a conspiracy. Of course Stane wanted the money and power that would be gained from having complete control over SI. Of course _Stane_ had been the one that orchestrated Pepper’s death. 

Bucky and Steve were able to destroy the large arc reactor at SI, but watching in fear as Tony almost died in the resulting blast, had Bucky considering seeing a doctor about his own heart. 

Two days later, in the mess that was left around the company, Bucky watched as Tony began to shut down completely. When it came time to figure out how to explain _Iron Man_ to the world, everyone had a different idea of how to handle it. Bucky could see that Tony was still running the different options over in his mind, even as he stepped up to the door for the press conference. 

He reached a hand out, grasping Tony’s arm gently. When the other man was staring up at him, the words stumbled out of his mouth. “Me. Say it’s me.”

“What?” Tony frowned.

“They want a face. A man behind the mask. But you can’t risk the kids by telling the truth. I’m the best answer. The most _believable_ answer. Give them what they want.”

“Bucky…” 

It looked like Tony was visibly pained over the very idea, because Bucky would be shouldering the very risk he was worried about the kids being faced with. But there was no other solution. “If you don’t, I will.”

Later, when he made sure Tony was secure at the house with the kids, with Natasha on duty, he volunteered to drive Steve to the airport. Sam had flown back a few days before, because of scheduling needs for an undergrad class that he was teaching, so it was just Steve and Bucky, driving through the hours of traffic in the Acura.

When they had been in the car for a while, Steve finally spoke, “He’ll never love you the same. You know that, right?”

His fingers twitched on the steering wheel. “What?”

“Tony. You’re in love with him. You’ve _been_ in love with him for as long as I’ve known you. And I’m guessing you’ve just accepted that you’ll always be on the outside looking in.”

A very strong part of him wanted to turn the radio on. Maybe blasting some rock music would make Steve get the memo that he didn’t want to have that particular discussion. But it wasn’t like the things Steve was saying were _new_ information. He had the same argument with himself every few weeks, back before Tony’s kidnapping. “I tried to leave once.”

“What stopped you?”

The traffic was gridlocked and he thumped his head back against the headrest. “Morgan.”

“My niece is amazing and brilliant, but I’m not sure that would be enough of a reason—”

“Morgan is mine,” he exclaimed, word vomiting the secret that he had held onto for literal _years._ The secret that he was the only person still alive to know…

“You—” Steve seemed unable to wrap his mind around what Bucky was saying. Finally, he motioned to his right. “Would you just… stop the car? For a minute?”

He flipped the blinker on, pissed off a few locals, and finally made it over to the shoulder. Once he had put the car in park, with the emergency lights flashing, he took a deep breath and leaned his head forward against the steering wheel.

Steve punched his arm, and Bucky flinched, surprised by the strength of the punch. “Hey!”

“You fucked my sister!”

“I didn’t!” He ducked out of the way of another punch. “I never slept with Pepper, Jesus!” Another punch was coming his way and he grabbed Steve’s fist, before he could land it. “I never slept with Pepper. I’m gay, remember? Not gay except for the love of my life’s wife. Come on, Steve!”

“Then how—”

“She got pregnant, they got married. Tony was super excited to be a dad, but then she had a miscarriage. He was heartbroken. When they tried again, it wasn’t happening. Testing showed that Tony had a low sperm count. The first pregnancy was a complete fluke. Pepper had no idea what to do, or how to tell Tony… so I volunteered.”

Steve snorted, “You need to stop fucking doing that.”

“What?”

“Volunteering to keep him happy.”

“What choice did I have? I love him. When you love someone, you want to make them happy.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re a self-sacrificing idiot.”

“Can I just drive you to the airport and get on with my life?”

“What about Peter?” When Bucky turned to Steve with a look of confusion, Steve clarified, “Is Peter yours?”

“Not sure. Pepper kept a few vials of my… _donation_ , but I’m not sure if she used that or got pregnant via a fluke again. She never told me.”

Steve started laughing, his head falling back against the seat. “Oh my god! No wonder you were pissed about me getting custody! They’re your fucking kids and Pepper didn’t give you custody in her will!”

The words cut like a knife. He had been trying to avoid thinking about that, but it was true… that was the brunt of the problem, wasn't it? The fact that his involvement was so well guarded, meant that Pepper refused to allow him custody even after her and Tony's presumed deaths.

But, even still… "They're Tony's kids, not mine."

"I think you need a vacation, Buck."

"Yeah, probably."

* * *

Tony lasted a month, before Bucky noticed how badly he was suffering. He didn't sleep in the master bedroom, that much JARVIS confirmed. Which meant that the nights he wasn't spending curled around the kids, he was working himself to death in the workshop. 

Any attempts to discuss things or mentions of therapy were shot down or ignored, and Bucky wasn't stupid enough to ignore the black lines running through his veins.

He was sitting in his bedroom one night, trying to work through JARVIS' coding and the walls that Tony had put up to block him out, when his door quietly opened and then closed back. With a raised eyebrow, he looked over to Morgan, the only one that didn't knock. "Why aren't you in bed, space ranger?"

"Something is wrong with daddy." 

Sometimes his brain automatically assumed that Morgan's intelligence came from her genius father (meaning Tony), then he remembered that her biological father was _not_ a genius and he wondered how the fuck his genetics created someone so smart. "I'm hacking into JARVIS. Daddy put up blocks so you and I can't find out the truth."

Morgan climbed onto the bed and made a clicking sound with her mouth. "Typical." She held up her own tablet. "I've broken into the third level. How far are you?"

Bucky frowned. "Not that far."

"It's something to do with this…" she showed him the information on her screen. 

"Palladium? Why—"

_"Sir is using the element palladium to power his arc reactor,"_ JARVIS responded. Apparently they had broken into enough of his firewalls that he was ready to help them. _"The high dosage of palladium is slowly poisoning him, and he has yet to find a sustainable alternative."_

"J, when was the last time he slept?"

_"Forty-two hours ago."_

Morgan looked up at him, concern etched all over her face. "I know," he mumbled. He kissed her forehead and moved to stand. "Why don't you get some sleep — I don't need to deal with two sleepy Starks — and I'll go wrestle your dad into submission."

With a game plan settled on, Bucky followed Morgan out of his room, making sure she went back to bed, before going downstairs. It was well past midnight, and he could feel exhaustion tugging at his own bones. He had no idea how Tony could manage.

When he got downstairs, he saw the shattered glass of what used to be the walls of the workshop. _Damn it._ Rock music was blaring, and as he carefully stepped over the glass, he finally spotted Tony, grease smeared up to his elbows as he fiddled with new plating for the Iron Man suit. 

He was also having a very heated argument with Dummy… who, judging by the fact that he was plugged into his charging station, wasn't listening.

Bucky used sign language to get JARVIS to cut off the music and begin shutdown protocols. 

When the room went silent, Tony finally sat up and shoved the welding mask off his face. "What the fuck, J—"

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Tony's delayed recognition to kick in. Once it had, and he realized Bucky was standing there, his face faltered. "Shutdown protocols are in place. Come on. You're going to clean up and then sleep."

Tony dropped a wrench onto a table. "I don't want to sleep, Bucky."

"I don't care. Either you go up there under your own free will, or I call Thor… who will knock you out with the good drugs and then carry your ass to bed."

"I can't—" Tony looked lost. "I can't sleep there. It's _her_ bed."

He felt stupid for not realizing exactly what the problem was. Of course Tony didn't want to sleep in the bed he had shared with Pepper. He stepped forward, held his hand out. "I have a perfectly good mattress in my room. Now come on. Much longer and your vital organs are going to give out."

It wasn't an instant choice. Tony stood there for another couple minutes, looking around with a lost expression in his eyes, before he finally stepped forward and grabbed Bucky's hand. As they stepped past the broken glass, he couldn't help but ask, "What happened?"

"Stabilizing the thrusters is harder than expected."

Once they were upstairs, Bucky stripped Tony down and forced him into the shower. He waited on the bathroom counter, worried that Tony's body might give out once it wasn't focused on a task. While he waited, he typed out a message to the rest of the crew that he and Tony would be out of commission for the next day. He also mentioned the clean up that would need to happen downstairs. 

When the shower shut off, he blinked, looking up and watching as Tony carefully climbed out and began drying off. His hands were shaking, and the black lines were visible as they spread out from the reactor.

That was a battle for another day. 

Bucky smiled softly as Tony stepped between his legs and laid his wet head against Bucky's stomach. He was such a fool, to keep letting his heart be drug around, but he had accepted that he would have to always be there… always protect Tony.

His fingers brushed through Tony's wet hair. "Ready for bed?"

"Can I be the small spoon?" Came the mumbled response. 

"Of course."

He got down from the counter and held onto Tony's hand as they walked back into the bedroom. He hadn't thought to get a change of clothes from the master, so instead he found a pair of his own boxer briefs and passed them over. 

They both climbed into the king sized bed and Bucky felt a bit of his soul slot into place as Tony snuggled back against him. He curled his arm around the older man and held on for all he was worth. 

Bit his tongue to keep the _I love you_ from slipping free.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So! A bunch of tags have been added onto this, so please take a minute to look them over. Everything was going just fine and then BOOM. Angst. Pain. All of it. I'm sorry! It'll get better! I swear!

It made sense, after everything, to move to New York. 

Yes, New York was just as saturated with memories of Pepper, but the apartments in the tower weren't so deeply embedded in Tony's mind as being the space he shared with her. 

It also allowed the entire team to stretch out more. They all lived within the span of three floors, yes, but the security of the building meant easing back on the time spent with the security team watching over the family. Pretty soon the only ones that saw the kids regularly were Thor and Phil. 

It actually got to the point where Bucky exclusively handled team schedules and paperwork… and then spent the rest of his week trying to find something to do. He wanted to see both Tony and the kids, but JARVIS had passed on a request that he didn't, for a little while. According to Nat, who handled Morgan's transfer protection to and from school, Tony wanted to do all he could to actually be a father, and that meant limiting the way Morgan and Peter would run to Bucky so often.

He knew. 

Bucky wasn't sure how it had happened, but he knew Anthony Stark well enough to know that there was always a reason for his actions… and that information couldn't stay hidden from him forever. 

A fitness ball slammed into his chest, sending him back onto the padded floor with a groan.

“Get your shit together,” Steve called from across the room. “It does me no good to have you here if you’re going to stand around daydreaming.”

“You should make note that the serum also enhanced your asshole tendencies,” Bucky mumbled. He pushed the ball away and got back to his feet. “Are we done having you kick my ass yet?”

“Done?” Steve pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve barely been here an hour! I’m not even winded.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re a menace. Come on, let's wrap our hands and do some sparring.”

They did just that, and Bucky had to get his head back in the game as Steve began laying into him properly. 

Sam had left two days before, leaving his teaching job and heading overseas to a job opening at CERN, where he could focus on some of his own research… and it wasn’t like Steve was heartbroken (he was adamant that they’d only been casual sex since they were always with each other), but he was definitely dealing out more aggression than normal.

Bucky could sympathize, because he felt like his entire family had been lost to him. 

One more slam to the chest and when he ended up on his back, he laid there without getting up immediately. A moment later, Steve laid down next to him. Bucky sighed, not even lifting his head as he unwrapped his hands. He felt… sad. So very fucking sad.

“So I take it he’s still got you locked out.”

Bucky snorted, “Ya think?”

“Any updates from Natasha, about why?”

“Nope. She said Tony doesn’t really speak to her, beyond a greeting.”

Steve made a soft ‘hmm’ sound, then let the silence settle around them. A few minutes passed and then, “Ya wanna fuck?”

* * *

A week later, he was a couple blocks from the tower, sitting in a coffee shop and eating his weight in beignets, when a television in the corner caught his attention. It was showing a news report about a terrorist attack in London that had been thwarted two days before — apparently they had new footage from CTV cameras that showed _Iron Man_ saving the day. 

He flashed back to the press conference where he had allowed Tony to say that the suit was worn by his personal bodyguard. Now, it seemed that Tony was recklessly carrying out more missions in the suit, without caring about the fallout. Because governments were going to start asking questions and wanting to restrict the use of the suit, and they would be after _Bucky_ , first and foremost.

Maybe he needed to pull that old resignation letter out of his desk. 

Shaking his head, he put his last beignet on a napkin and carried it and his cup of coffee as he left the cafe. He walked back towards the tower, head a mess as he tried to cope with the idea that maybe the best move for everyone would be to just move on with his life. For the longest time, the thought of leaving the kids had been what kept him there… but it wasn’t like he could even _see_ the kids anymore. They had probably started to move on so well that they didn’t even notice his absence. 

It was right about then, as that thought settled into his stomach, that a black van pulled up next to the curb and men in masks covered his head and pulled him inside the back. His coffee and pastry hit the ground, as his head slammed into the metal of the van floor.

* * *

They must’ve injected him with something, because he didn’t remember anything after that moment. When he finally came to, he was sitting in a metal chair with his hands tied securely behind his back and his legs tied just as well. 

His head was pounding so badly that it was hard to even lift it up and look around the room. Not that he could see much, considering the pitch blackness around him. He could smell… but it wasn’t pleasant; dampness and mold that reminded him of basic training in the south.

He sat there for a long time, trying to gain control of his mind so that he could figure out what had happened and why he was there… but after a while, the screaming pain in his head had him passing out again.

* * *

He woke up like that five more times, before finally he was awoken by a sharp slap across his face. When his eyes opened that time, there was a blinding light focused right at him and a million questions being thrown his way.

He couldn’t focus to answer any of the questions, which seemed to make the men even angrier. Some of what they were screaming was in a different language — Russian, he assumed by the dialect — and the only words that seemed to jump out were _Iron_ and _Stark._

Of course. They wanted the suit. And Tony. 

Fuck them all. 

The tactics kept up for hours on end, questions and anger. Strikes to his face and stomach when he refused to answer.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he spit out the blood that was gathering from the last punch to the face. “32557038.”

That became his mantra. The only thing he could fall back on. Because he had been trained to handle capture, had experienced being a prisoner of war — none of it was new.

They refused to let him sleep, unless he was passed out from their brutality. He remained tied there in that chair, in the bright lights of the torture room. They had also started playing obnoxiously loud music in a language he didn't understand. 

Still… he refused to talk. He would rather die a torturous death, than give up the man he loved to the same fate.

* * *

Time and agony started to blend together. For a while after they'd knocked his chair over during a particularly hard kick, he just laid against the cold concrete floor and let his mind drift.

Because he couldn't sleep, but he'd be damned if they took away his thoughts. Images of Tony and the kids… the times they had spent together before Tony's capture. Holding Morgan for the first time and hiding his own tears because she was the greatest gift he could ever give to the man he loved.

* * *

His captors seemed to be getting both desperate and angry. New men showed up, but they looked less like vicious brutes and more like scientists. 

The one who spoke as if he was the boss, had a red bowtie and glasses… he seemed so normal but had an evilness about him that Bucky couldn't explain. 

They finally moved him… but the new room was scarier than the last. 

Bowtie-man leaned over the table they'd strapped him down on. "I hear you will not talk," the man said, accent thick but different from the others. "If you will not talk, you will become experiment instead. Now… I've heard you were injured in war. Bad arm, yes?" The man smiled maniacally. "I can fix that."

* * *

"My name is… James.. Ja…"

"My name…"

"J…"

"My name… my name is… my name…"

* * *

\--- **Tony** \---

* * *

"J, show me the schematics for Mark 42 again. Let's work on that acceleration discrepancy."

JARVIS did as instructed and Tony spun in his chair, enlarging the diagnostics he was worried about. It didn’t take long for him to get lost in the science, bickering back and forth with JARVIS, while also having the computer run simulations to find the proper answer. 

He had no idea how long he had been at it, when JARVIS suddenly cut in, _”Sir, Mr. Rogers is asking for permission to enter.”_

The idea of seeing his brother-in-law cut through his work haze and he quickly shook his head. “Tell him I’m unavailable.”

_”He seems rather persistent.”_ ”

“J, I don’t have time for—”

There was a crashing sound behind him, and Tony spun around to see Steve Rogers in what _used to be_ the doorway of the lab. The remains of the door and part of the wall were scattered on the floor, absolutely destroyed. Steve was holding a round table top, from one of the small decorative tables lining the hallway, and brushing plaster out of his hair.

“What… the… _fuck._ ” Tony mumbled. The fact that Steve had destroyed the door and hadn’t even broken a sweat, let alone a bone, was as fascinating as the fact that he felt the need to see Tony badly enough to go to those extremes. “You coulda called?”

As if he was worried about making a mess, Steve carefully placed the top of the table down against part of the wall that was still standing, before crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Tony. “I tried. JARVIS wouldn’t connect me. I’ve _been_ trying for two damn weeks.”

Two weeks? He tried to remember the last time he’d seen a calendar or clock. “Well, you’re here now.” His attention went back to the blueprints. 

“Where is Bucky?”

Bucky…

Tony shook his head, flicking through screens a little bit quicker. “Haven’t seen him. Ask one of his crew. JARVIS, who’s on duty?”

“Romanoff,” Steve answered first. “I’ve already spoken to her. I’ve spoken to _all_ of them.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Didn’t know you and Barnes were close enough to cause so much worry.” He closed a couple screens and finally asked, “J, when was the last time Barnes left the tower?”

_”Seventeen days ago, sir.”_

“Huh, and I thought I was the reclusive one…”

Steve slammed a fist down on a metal workbench, causing the metal to warp where his hand landed. “JARVIS, why don’t you inform your dear master whether or not Barnes returned after that excursion?”

Tony frowned, but JARVIS answered, _”Sergeant Barnes left the building at seven in the morning, seventeen days ago, and has not reentered since that time.”_

Seventeen days. Tony fought back his own emotions and turned back to Steve. “So he went on vacation. He deserved that—”

“And who, exactly, goes on a vacation without letting _anyone_ know about it?” Steve shook his head. “Better yet! Who goes on vacation and doesn’t pack anything for it? Leaves meat out on the counter to thaw for dinner? Stark!” Steve yelled, getting Tony’s attention to finally turn completely away from his screens. “Something is wrong. I’m telling you… something happened to him.”

Tony felt the pressure squeezing on his heart and didn’t know what to say. Either Bucky had finally had enough and just quietly walked away… or Steve was right, and something had happened. He wasn’t sure which version hurt worse. “Why are you telling me? If you’re that worried, take it to the police—”

“You’re fucking impossible!”

“Steve—”

“No, you’re right. Why would I come to _you_ , the asshole he’s been in love with for years, when I should have just taken it to the police, who would have at least given a fucking shit about him.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“That you’ll fucking _find_ my friend!”

* * *

It took exactly thirty-five minutes for JARVIS to run a facial recognition algorithm and find Bucky on a video from two and a half weeks before. Between that, and his credit card bill showing a purchase at a nearby cafe, they easily found the footage of what happened. 

Steve upended a table when he saw it, so angry he was practically blowing steam out of his ears. He pointed a finger in Tony’s face. “This is _your_ fucking fault. You recklessly allowed him to claim to be Iron Man, without ever stopping to consider the target it put on his head. If he’s dead, I hope you never get over the fucking guilt.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a defined chapter total now! Oh boy. I honestly thought this story was going to be much longer... especially when it got to the kidnapping stuff. Leave it to Bucky and Tony to actually get their shit together in a timely manner.

\--- **Tony** \---

* * *

Finding the initial footage turned out to be the easy part. 

Unfortunately there was no way of tracking the van and they were left scrambling to find out any substantial information. 

In the end, it took another ten days before they had an address to chase down. Steve was like a hellcat, strapped up in a bulletproof dark blue uniform with white stripes and a white star. When Tony arched an eyebrow, Steve didn't even bother to explain. 

"Here," he held out the shining vibranium shield. "I've seen you sparring with Natasha… you seem to favor defense rather than offense, so I made you a shield. If I had known we were going the flamboyant uniform route, I would've added some color."

"Says the man who flies around in a flaming red tin can."

* * *

Whatever he had seen — all of the pain he had endured over the past year…

None of it prepared him for finding Bucky.

He could lie to himself all day long about the feelings he had for the other man, but he knew it was all just bullshit. Even Pepper had known the difference between him _loving_ and being _in love with_ Bucky.

The man laying on the table in that room… was barely a shell of the man he knew. "James," he choked, letting the armor fall away as he stumbled forward. Steve was just finishing with the last of the assholes in the hallway. Tony wished he could go back and kill them all again. His fingers trembled as they reached out, laying against the side of Bucky’s neck. He prayed to a God he’d never believed in, until he finally felt the faintest beat of life. 

“Oh shit. What— where—” Steve had moved into the room and seen Bucky, but was obviously just as shocked. 

Tony bit back the bile in his throat that wanted to force its way free, every time he looked over at Bucky’s left side. “He’s alive. Call an ambulance. _Hurry._ ”

* * *

He was such a fucking idiot. How was it possible to have such a high IQ and be so fucking stupid. 

They were waiting in a private room for family members of ICU patients, so at the moment it was only him and Steve there. The others had been informed, but since Bucky was still in surgery (and probably wouldn’t even be able to have visitors), Tony had asked them all to stay put for the time being.

That didn’t help with the fact that Steve was pacing, wearing down the carpet and stopping every few feet to glare death daggers at Tony.

It was probably the anxiety. Maybe the tension. Possibly the dread…

But he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “So you two are a thing now?”

Steve stopped at the far side of the room and balled his fist up, almost punching the wall until he stopped himself. “No, Tony, we are not a _thing._ Why would Bucky ever want someone else when he has you keeping him on a short leash?” The smaller man turned, moving back and sitting down in the chair directly opposite of Tony. “We’ve got some time, huh? Why don’t we go over the shit that you’ve dragged poor Buck through—”

“Steve.”

“You two are perfect for each other, because Bucky is a self-sacrificing fool and you’re an egotistical asshole that thinks the world should bow to him.”

Tony leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. “Ironic that the reason I broke things off, was because he almost got killed trying to protect me.” 

Steve huffed. "Everything he's ever done was for you."

"Not everything," Tony growled.

* * *

_It weighed on his mind. Like an itch that he couldn't quite scratch, keeping him distracted and frustrated. Why? Why. Why. Why._

_"J?" The AI system responded and Tony ignored his own exhaustion as he stared at the screen in front of him. "When did Pepper change the will?"_

_"Two days after your accident overseas, sir."_

_"Is there anything… any reason why?"_

_They had settled on a will about two months after Morgan was born. It was one of those things that was a necessity, yes, but Tony had tried to block it out. Even still, one night they had sat down in Pepper's office and gone over the details._

_He could still remember the unease in her eyes when he requested that Bucky be given custody, if anything were to happen to both of them. She wanted that role to go to her brother Steve… but Tony had never gotten along with Steve, and was worried that he would be too focused on his own endeavors to properly raise a kid. Like Howard had been… always too busy for the important moments._

_In comparison, Bucky had already shown complete devotion to the safety and happiness of their family._

_They'd argued about it for another month, before Pepper finally gave in._

_But it left a bad taste in his mouth that as soon as he was presumed dead, she had changed it back to her own preference._

_"I have found some security footage that you might find of interest, sir."_

_He motioned for JARVIS to go ahead, and a moment later footage of Pepper's office at SI was playing on the screen._

__"How are you holding up?" _The room showed Obadiah leaning forward against one of the client chairs, watching Pepper across the desk. He had his fake schmooze voice on._

__"About as well as can be expected, I suppose."

"Yeah. I know this is a rough time, but I wanted to discuss some concerns I had, before it gets too late." __

_Pepper looked uneasy, judging by her body language, but she still motioned for Obie to sit. Tony was confused… why did that conversation have anything to do with the damn will?_

__"I can't seem to get it out of my head, that Tony's security team let him go over there alone." _When Pepper tried to cut in, Obie held up a hand._ "I know that Tony was supposed to have the best crew available from the Army, I heard the spiel. But doesn't it seem suspicious that Barnes backed out of going?" __

_Tony's eyebrows furrowed. Bucky had never been scheduled to go. Obadiah had set up the entire thing and told Tony that SI security would be there, no reason to bring additional people that would be better served protecting the family._

__"I hadn't heard that he was scheduled to go."

"He was until about two hours before takeoff. Now listen, my main concern is that I've seen the inheritance documents, I know what Tony's plans were if anything happened. I would just hate to think that any of this was set up as some sort of scheme, to get Tony's money and company." __

_He wanted to kick Obadiah's ass again, just for accusing Bucky of being so evil. How dare he!_

__"I doubt that would happen."

"No?"

"Bucky has never once tried to stake a claim on the children."

"Before now, he never had the ability."

"No? Hadn't he? He had a biological claim from the beginning." __

_Tony slammed his hand down on a button, cutting off the video instantly. Biological._

_"JARVIS."_

_"Sir?"_

_"Are Morgan and Peter… are they Bucky's children?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

* * *

That knowledge had slammed into him like a semi-truck. Left him bruised and battered and wanting absolutely nothing to do with Bucky. He had orchestrated the move to New York, knowing that the extra space would be ample reason to see the other man as little as possible. 

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony blinked, knocked out of his thoughts by the appearance of a doctor. "Yeah?"

"I've been told that you're listed as the emergency contact for James Barnes. I wanted to update you on his condition." The doctor's eyes flickered over to Steve. "Should we speak alone… or?"

"It's fine. Steve has every right to hear."

The doctor nodded, grabbing one of the chairs from a table and moving it over to them. He sat on it backwards, his large arms resting on the back of it. "I'm sure you're aware that Mr. Barnes's condition was severely critical when he arrived."

"We're the ones that found him," Steve answered.

"Right. Well our main concern initially was the left arm. From what we can tell, it was severed by someone with a bit of anatomy knowledge… but they hadn't properly handled the wound following that moment. We've cleaned that up, as well as we could, and have moved onto addressing the additional issues. James was malnourished and experienced a large amount of both shock and infection. We've administered antibiotics to help combat the worst of the infection."

"Shit," he whispered, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Unfortunately there is one more issue that has us worried. It looks like James suffered multiple contusions to the head, and the MRI showed that concussion and bleeding in the brain might be our number one fear going forward. We've taken steps to address that, but it'll be a waiting game to see if the condition improves."

Steve stood, beginning to pace once more. When he'd walked the length of the room and back, he stopped to stare at the doctor. "Can we see him?"

"Once they get him settled into his own room, yes. The nurse will have information about visiting hours."

* * *

An hour later found them both sitting in Bucky's room, listening to the melodic rhythm of the heart monitor. Steve was sitting right next to Bucky, staring at him as if he could make Bucky heal faster with just his will.

Tony couldn't make himself get that close. Instead, he sat on the opposite side of the room, pushed back into a corner.

He was still wrestling with both his anger and his guilt. Honestly he wanted to just leave… lock himself in his workshop for a week and turn all of the ugly emotions into something worthwhile. But the guilt crept in even more when he convinced himself to go.

They'd been there in the quiet for a long time, when Steve finally asked, "Why? Why did you shut him out?"

He didn't want to say it. Didn't want Steve to think worse of his sister. "He slept with Pepper. A lot, apparently, because the kids are his… not mine."

Of all the reactions he was anticipating… a sharp burst of laughter was not one of them. Tony looked to Steve, confusion on his face. Steve was shaking his head and still snorting. "He was right… it does sound pretty ridiculous when you hear it out loud."

_Ridiculous?_ "It's not—"

"Pepper didn't know how to tell you. They tried the fertilization or whatever with your sperm and it wouldn't work. She knew you'd be heartbroken, because you had gotten excited about the idea of kids."

His brain was starting to swirl again. "I—"

"He loves you. Has only ever loved you. He was there when she found out, so he offered to be a donor." Steve met his gaze. "It was the best gift he could give you. Even if you never knew."

* * *

He made a significant contribution to the hospital foundation… enough to earn him the ability to sit by Bucky's side even after visiting hours.

He had never hated himself as much as he did at that moment in time. How had he been so damn stupid? He had jumped to conclusions and gotten so angry without even stopping to ask Bucky the truth. Even a confrontation would have been better than what he did. 

Now he had wasted so much time and Bucky's life was at risk because of it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for those that don't know, the "arch" in my name comes from having a degree in Architecture. I used that knowledge a bit to create the representation of Bucky's memory loss. I also based it on my own trauma, that has been magically locked in a room that I can't remember any of. (The brain is amazing!)
> 
> I also have a ton of experience with children (if you haven't noticed a theme in my writing), so if Morgan seems at all "too smart" or whatever, remember that her biological parents were both smart, and the environment she was raised in would have contributed to her genius. 
> 
> I currently nanny a 4yo and 2yo... I can have full conversations with both. Kids develop based on how people speak to them daily. (Like: I was reading on my own at 4.)
> 
> Anyway, enough of my rambling, please enjoy!

There was a wall. Tall. Concrete. 

It had the smallest crack. He traced the crack with a finger. Dug in with a short nail.

The wall held strong.

* * *

When James Buchanan Barnes woke up in the hospital three days after his arrival, he didn't know his own name.

There were doctors and experts coming and going, people looking at him with sad eyes and stilted words. He was too exhausted, in too much pain, to really understand or try to force back memories that were hidden from him.

He drifted in and out of sleep, aware of moments when he was being moved out of ICU and into a normal room, and times when his room was mostly empty.

'Mostly,' because no matter when he opened his eyes… there was always a lone figure sitting in the corner of his room. Sometimes the man would be asleep, sometimes he would be frowning at a device in his hands, and sometimes… he would be looking back.

* * *

He dug in, pounding with sore hands, begging for some kind of break. An answer. Salvation. 

It began to hurt. When he looked down next, his left arm started to crumble away, instead of the wall.

* * *

He sprang up in the bed, screaming in fear and pain. 

Why did everything _burn_?

A gentle hand laid against his face and for a very confused moment he almost thought it was his own. What… no… where…

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your friends call you Bucky. I know it hurts, I can't help that part, but I'm here. I know it isn't enough, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." There was a gentle press of lips against his forehead, followed by a shuddering whimper that was apparently coming from his own lips. "J, Goodnight Moon."

There was more confusion, before a child's voice filled the entire room. _"In the great green room…"_

The words, the gentle brush of fingers through his hair… his pain started to ease and his eyes slipped closed.

* * *

The wall was starting to crumble the next time he woke. There was a dull throb of pain, but beneath it, there was clarity.

"Tony."

It was a name, but it was all he had. He whispered it into the darkness and only silence answered. When he found the strength to raise his head, he was alone.

* * *

The periods of lucidity were starting to grow. The wall in his mind was like a crumbling house, 100-years-old and abandoned. With each new memory, though, brought understanding of what had happened. 

His arm was… gone. Sheered off painfully four inches below the shoulder. The procedure was still and hopefully would remain, a blank spot. There was no sound of the saw, only the loud decibels of screaming.

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. His friends called him Bucky. 

He didn't talk to the men and women that entered the room dressed in white coats and colorful scrubs. In all honesty, he flinched every time he heard a soft knock at the door and wheels of a med cart squeaking along the floor.

Doctors took his arm.

Tony walked back in after Bucky had been awake for a couple hours. He'd been staring at the wall as he chipped away at the locked memories in his mind, when his attention was diverted to the door, because Tony wasn't alone. Next to him was an angel. And despite the pain and confusion of the last few days, a ray of sunlight opened through the concrete wall.

_"Morgan,"_ he whispered.

Morgan crossed the room and Tony carefully helped her up onto the bed, getting her settled in a spot that wouldn't disrupt any medical equipment. Bucky reached out with his right hand and brushed trembling fingers along her soft cheek.

Teardrops followed the path he created, and his heart started to ache.

"My sweet girl." The words seemed to break her, and suddenly the girl was wrapped around his neck and sobbing. Bucky buried his nose in her hair and held on, committing new memories in his mind that the wall couldn't touch. The smell of her hair, the softness of her skin, the squeeze of her arms around him.

He couldn't remember everything, couldn't lie to himself about how much he wanted to, but like a prima ballerina, Morgan Stark danced through his memories in so many important ways. The most beautiful glimpses of time from the past. She was his heart. She made him more than an empty shell of a tin man.

* * *

They stayed curled around each other for a long time, until Morgan finally pulled back and used her shirt sleeves to wipe at her eyes. 

Tony had moved a seat over next to the bed, and had sat patiently and watched throughout the process. Finally, having let Morgan settle in, he mused softly, "Should I tell him, or would you like to?"

A faint blush painted her cheeks. Bucky moved his hand from her hair and pushed the button to raise his bed up into a better position, so that he could sit up and feel a bit more human. "Tell me what?"

Morgan made a nod of her head towards Tony. Tony chuckled. "Chicken." His focus moved to Bucky. "What Morgan would like to say is that unfortunately your daughter is a hacker."

It hit him like a freight train. Slammed into the wall and crushed so much of the concrete into dust. And then there were tears. Because it hurt so badly. So much worse than anything else he had felt. Oh fuck. How had he… why…

The machines started to scream, and as Morgan muttered a worried, _"Daddy,"_ Tony was already picking her up and moving her off the bed. 

Bucky didn't notice. Didn't see anything as his breathing started to stutter. But then fingers were brushing through his hair and lips were ghosting over his forehead. "Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your friends call you Bucky. I know it hurts, love, but breath with me." A hand laid against his chest, steady over his racing heart. "In. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. _Out._ "

The counting continued, repetitive until his breathing evened and the panic faded.

After, his body felt exhausted. But… he knew that sleep wouldn't come. He was tired of sleep. Tired of time passing so quickly. 

Morgan moved close again, hand reaching out to lay on his leg. "Is Bucky okay?"

He moved his hand from Tony's, to lay on Morgan's. "I'm okay."

"I'm guessing our Bucky here got a bit of anxiety when he got to thinking too hard about him being a father." Tony lifted Morgan up again, carefully setting her in the spot from before. "He probably expected me to be angry. Remember our talk?" Tony reached out, tugging on the tips of her hair. "Maybe you could explain?"

Morgan straightened herself, shoulders back and face looking very much the spitting image of her no-nonsense mother. "Tony would like to make it clear that he is more sorry about his actions than he could ever articulate. What he failed to say to you, is that you gave him the greatest gift he could ever ask for." Morgan picked up Bucky's hand and slowly traced each finger. "You're our family, Bucky. We want you to stay a part of our family forever."

Before he could try and muster words, Tony was brushing fingers through his hair, getting loose strands out of Bucky's eyes. "I thought the worst, because that is what I'm good at… jumping to idiotic conclusions without stopping to use this stupid brain."

"You thought Pepper and I—" Tony nodded his head before Bucky could even finish the thought. "Wasn't for her," he whispered, looking back to Morgan and squeezing her hand. "Was only ever to put a smile on the face of the man I love."

Morgan let out an exasperated noise. "I think you two need therapy."

* * *

He went home. It had been weeks of recovery and would still require even more. Learning to live life without his left arm… 

Tony had promised to create a revolutionary prosthetic, but while they waited for that to develop, Bucky's doctors made it clear that he would have to learn a new way of life.

Life with one arm.

He hated all of it. Was so angry all of the time… fumbling around the room just trying to do something simple like put his damn pants on. Tony had hired a nurse, but Bucky refused to let her help dress him. She wouldn't be there forever and he had to learn.

Two or three times a week he got a skull-splitting headache. They hit fast and hard, and suddenly he would be sitting on the couch, cradling his head and on the verge of tears. His nurse would help him back to the darkness of his bedroom, and he would forget his name until it was over.

He didn't want the kids to see him recovering — because recovering equaled anger. Equaled fighting the new man he was while screaming at the old one. That wasn't something for kids to be subjected to.

His team showed up on rotation. They would spend a couple hours keeping him company before their shift started. He was beginning to hate the pity in their eyes. 

Steve moved into the extra bedroom in Bucky's apartment. Any argument was met with a very stern _'I will kick your ass with one arm behind my back, to make it even.'_ Out of everyone, Steve was the one that refused to look at him differently. He would still talk shit and treat Bucky like life was normal. Make Bucky do all the things he hated... like washing dishes with one hand.

Therapy was maybe the hardest thing of all. Because his therapist was there to force him to keep breaking down the rest of that damn wall. It was only bits and pieces left, but it was the ones surrounding the darkest memories. 

He usually went straight to bed after a therapy session, taking a couple pills for the headache he knew was coming and laying down with his body curled around a pillow.

The next time he woke up, after a particularly rough therapy session, he blinked his eyes open to the sight of someone else sharing his bed.

Tony sat on the empty side of the bed, his back against the headboard and his attention on a tablet in his hands. There was something oddly comforting about seeing Tony's 'working' face. Bucky could remember sitting for hours watching the man, wondering what it was like to have a mind like Tony's.

Bucky tilted his head just enough to see the screen and then snorted out a laugh. "Chess? Really?"

Tony looked towards him, smile both endearing and lovely. "JARVIS and I play sometimes. Helps me wind down after a busy day. He's a cheating asshole, but I like to think he got it from his father."

"No doubt." He snuggled farther into the warmth of the blankets, pulling them all the way up to his chin. "Where is Stevie?" If Tony was there, that meant Steve had been called away. One or the other always liked to be nearby when Bucky's nurse wasn't on hand. Just in case of issues or nightmares. 

"According to the files I hacked, he's in Bangladesh on some kind of infiltration mission." Tony turned the tablet off and set it on the bedside table, before stretching out on the bed and turning to face Bucky. He reached out, tucking a few strands of Bucky's hair behind his ear. "Sierra said you had a rough day."

"Dr. Morris is poking at the shitty stuff." He sat up a bit, pulling and rearranging the blankets… so that Tony was beneath them as well. Once they were both cocooned, Bucky laid his head on Tony's shoulder. "I don't think I want to remember anything more. There are patches of normal life missing, but I can handle that if it means not knowing about… _that._ "

Lips brushed gently against his forehead. "Then we'll tell her that. Now… go to sleep. Can't do anything about it for now."

He wiggled a little close, took a deep breath of Tony's familiar scent, and closed his eyes. "I love you."

Another gentle kiss to his forehead. "Love you too."


	9. Chapter 9

He always stood with Morgan on his right. His therapist said that it was probably completely subconscious, but sometimes he found himself doing it on purpose, moving so that she would be walking next to his flesh and blood arm.

The thing was… Tony, given the time to puzzle out the mechanics, had made an absolutely beautiful prosthetic. It even had nanobots inside that allowed Bucky to make it flesh toned at the push of a button (rather than the brassy metallic that it normally was). But it was still metal. And it was capable of extreme damage, based on the testing that Bucky had seen and participated in.

And he worried. He worried a lot. Because he didn't want to have a flashback and suddenly be hurting Morgan or Peter.

So he kept them on his right. 

Unfortunately Morgan was not only intelligent, she was perceptive. Unlike Tony, whose intelligence would sometimes create blinders to basic human activities deemed unworthy… Morgan had Bucky's intellect and perception skills. (Once, for shits and giggles, Bucky had sat with her on a park bench for twenty minutes and then, at the end of the time, he quizzed her on the people that had walked past. She got every answer correct, even though she hadn't known about the questions beforehand.)

So it took a few weeks, but finally Morgan called him out on his shit. She stepped out of her school building and immediately went to his left side and grasped the hand of the prosthetic. 

He gave her an uneasy look. "Morgan—"

" _James._ " They had a momentary stare-off, before he finally started walking with her towards the tower. They walked a block, before she spoke again, "I'm not afraid of it, you know."

They slowed at a crosswalk, waiting for traffic. "You should be. It's…"

"I've seen the video." The light changed and they began to walk again with the flow of people. "I've also seen how you fret about it with Peter. Afraid something will make you react, right?"

"If I have a flashback—"

"Steve and Dr. Bruce don't think that would cause you to react negatively against us."

Bucky frowned. "You talked to them about this?"

"I only know so many doctors, James. It isn't like I could ask my school nurse about psychological responses due to PTSD."

"I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to know about any of that stuff, at your age." He ignored the dude walking next to them that seemed to keep throwing confused looks in Morgan's direction as he eavesdropped. "Hey, Miss Carlisle invited you to Hannah's birthday party on Saturday."

They rounded the corner and finally made it to the SI entrance. As they passed through the doors, Morgan huffed. "She just wants me there so I bring a good gift. Hannah doesn't even talk to me. Her and Maggie and Brit are always talking about daddy's money and how it's all I'm good for."

When they were in the quiet of the penthouse elevator, Bucky turned and knelt down so that he was face to face with Morgan. “Important life lesson, okay?” He waited for her nod, before continuing, “People suck. The majority of them are just _the worst._ Those girls in your class will not be the last ones to see your last name and want to use you. Unfortunately, it is a fact of life that you’re going to need to accept. But, you will find diamonds in all of that mud. People that love you no matter what, and when you have a few diamonds in your pocket, the rest is easy to ignore.”

Morgan wasn’t the type of kid to let her emotions boil over in the form of tears, and that moment wasn’t any different… but he could still see the storm clouds just beneath the surface. Bucky reached out, brushing the tip of one metal finger along her cheek. “The best part is, little one, that you were given a pocket full of diamonds to start your journey. The bad days will never last forever.”

She surged forward, wrapping her small body around him in a tight hug.

Bucky breathed in the moment, thankful.

* * *

Things between him and Tony had not immediately turned easy, just because Bucky was a few months into recovery. They had attempted a couple real 'dates' which were laughable, at best. They had known each other — been in each other's pockets — for _years._ There was no point in trying to ignore that history in hopes of 'starting fresh'... so they were at a weird spot.

On top of that, Tony had been working with a government agency (and Steve, surprisingly) to take on different threats to the country. Bucky was… well, he was no longer Iron Man's biggest fan. He saw the need for the persona, but he had almost given his life up because of it. People were starting to figure out that it was probably Tony behind the mask, and what would happen if someone went after the kids? Criminals had already shown that they were willing to do anything. 

It was those thoughts that kept him from giving in completely to his feelings and letting a true relationship develop. His love for Tony was second only to the kids… but he hated Iron Man.

Steve told him to hash it out with Tony. Be honest about his feelings. Bucky told Steve to politely fuck off. The ship had long since sailed on _communication_ being a strong point between him and Tony.

Bucky was in the nursery with Peter, enjoying some quiet time reading and rocking the boy before his nap, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Usually JARVIS held all communication when he was in the nursery, just so an arrant text message didn't wake the baby… which meant that whatever he had allowed through, was important. 

"J," he mumbled, nodding his head toward the blank wall across from him. JARVIS threw up a screen on the wall, utilizing the tech that generally showed twinkling stars and other stuff to keep Peter amazed while he fell asleep.

The feed was showing Iron Man going up against some kind of enormous sea creature somewhere in the South Pacific. Apparently the creature had settled in a cove near a well populated city, and they were trying to gently coax it back to sea… fairly unsuccessfully, judging by the slime coating the red armor.

Bucky waved his hand to the left and the screen vanished. 

_He didn't care._

A few minutes later he walked out of the nursery after putting Peter down in his crib. The penthouse was empty — most of the team was on vacation, save for Thor, who drew the short straw and was on Morgan duty. Bucky had to admit that he kind of liked the quiet. It was just him and Peter during the day, so he got to see the way the boy was changing.

When he rounded the corner to go into the kitchen and make himself a sandwich, he stopped short at the sight of another body there, leaned over the sink. "Tony?" He glanced back over his shoulder… why would JARVIS interrupt him for outdated information? 

Tony looked over, waving a soapy hand. "Have you had lunch yet? I grabbed a couple of salads and some sushi on my way up."

"I was just going to make a sandwich." He scratched at the back of his neck, feeling a bit out of sorts. "JARVIS just showed a news report of Iron Man. Was that this morning?"

"What?" Tony's face scrunched up in a frown and he dug his phone out. He flicked his fingers along it for a few minutes. " _Huh._ "

"Tony?"

"Not the exact moves I would have used, but definitely a fast learner."

Fast learner? "Would you stop doing the avoidance bullshit and just tell me what the fuck is going on?"

Tony set his phone down on the counter, before crossing his arms and turning to look at Bucky. "I'm a genius, ya know? It didn't take much to see that you were having issues with the Iron Man thing."

He slumped back against the counter, running his hands over his face and back through his hair. "I already lost you once, Tony." The pain ran through his veins like fire, cutting and slicing and _burning._ It somehow started to transform and manifest into anger. Because he _was_ angry. Angry at everything the Iron Man suit had done to ruin his life. Yeah, it had helped Tony escape… but it had then become a knife digging deeper and deeper into Bucky. He slammed his flesh-and-bone fist down onto the counter and turned to Tony. “I can’t do this, Tony. Not anymore. I’ve spent years of my life chasing you, hoping for some fantasy outcome, but I won’t keep doing it. Ultimatums are shitty, but that’s where we are. If you want me, if you want whatever you and I can become, then the focus needs to be family rather than Iron Man.”

Tony simply nodded his head. “I know that.”

“Do you? Because I’ve watched you run away from me for a lot of years. I sat there with my heart in my hands while the man I loved avoided commitment to me and married someone else.” There were tears in his eyes as he started to think about the way he had felt so many times. "Every time I tried to leave, something would drag me right back. And I love Morgan and Peter more than life, but if being a part of their lives means watching you kill yourself in a metal suit or fall in love with someone else… then I'm done for good."

Tony stood silently for a moment and Bucky could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. Finally, he moved, reaching behind his head to grab the collar of his old college shirt. He stripped it off and set it on the counter… and Bucky felt his eyes growing wide at the sight of scarred skin where the arc reactor used to lay.

"Where—"

"I've spent the last few weeks working with a woman named Helen Cho. She's a doctor from Seoul that has been making a lot of headway with nano-tech as a regenerative tool. So I found a surgeon that was willing to work with her, they dug the bullet fragments out and rebuilt the area around my heart."

Bucky reached out, unable to stop himself as he laid his hand over the scarred skin. The arc reactor was _gone_ , and with it… all of the worry that Tony's health was a ticking time bomb. 

Tony's hand covered his. "This, here, between you and I… our family that we've somehow created, it isn't easy. But it doesn't have to be. The fact that it isn't perfect, is how I know that it's real. I'm so tired of living this insanity. I've got a great team in place at SI, and now Iron Man will be well taken care of. So how about we stop worrying about the past, and develop our future?"

He took half a step and let his body collapse forward against Tony's. Tony caught him, hands wrapping securely around Bucky's back, as Bucky buried his face in Tony's neck. 

He didn't realize until that moment, how tightly wound he had been over the past few weeks. A bow string ready to snap. Tony carded fingers through his hair.

Bucky was just about to suggest going to snuggle on the couch while Peter napped… when his curiosity got the better of him. He pulled back and asked, "Who is in the suit?"

"Oh!" Tony laughed, "Someone volunteered to take on the responsibility. And honestly I wasn't sure how the flexibility would translate with the armor, but it seems to be working very well—"

"Tony."

"Natasha. It's Natasha."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How ironic is it that on a story called 'Give me an Ending'... I would struggle with the ending??? Yeah. F.U., Mr. Muse. 
> 
> I really do apologize for how long this has taken. My desire to write anything has been at about .1% and it took literal months for me to squeeze out all of these words and form something acceptable. But I have other ideas that would like to happen, and for them to exist, this one has to end.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience and support!

Sometimes he woke up with an overwhelming ache in his left arm. Sometimes he woke up screaming from the pain of memories his mind had hidden. Most of the time he was gently pulled back into the softness of cotton sheets and a warm embrace.

Thankfully, as time passed, the good mornings far outweighed the bad. On any given day, he was more likely to blink his eyes open and stare at the face of the man he loved.

They'd left the city. On Peter's third birthday, Bucky had stared at the boy chasing butterflies on the tower's rooftop garden and wondered how well he would thrive in a real yard. They could get a dog. Plant berries and watch the kid eat them as soon as they were red.

Tony was a bit worn out at that point. He'd passed over all CEO duties to a man named Hank who had been one of Tony's college friends that got fucked over by a rival company. Tony's main tasks had shifted to research and development, but he couldn't stand to do any of it around SI's other scientists, so he worked exclusively from his own lab.

And things like that could move easily.

House hunting took exactly twelve days. On day six, Bucky was clicking through the email from their realtor with available properties and stumbled upon a four bedroom house that was on two acres of property and just a short drive to the beach. It was in Connecticut… out of the city, but still close enough that Tony could commute in for board meetings. It was also just a couple miles from one of the private schools they were looking at for Morgan.

The real selling point, though, was that it looked so… _normal._ They could just be a couple, raising their kids like any other normal family. 

The following six days involved three trips to Connecticut. Two tours of the house, one tour of the potential school.

As part of the moving process, Bucky's therapist had recommended taking the time to actually pick out furniture and decorate the house personally, rather than hiring someone to do that. She urged him to get Tony involved as much as possible. _'You want this place to be your forever home. Not just another place.'_

Ironically, Mr. Genius Tony Stark… had terrible taste in furniture. He was dead set on an obnoxiously bright green sofa the moment that he saw it, and was only appeased when Bucky allowed it… in the new workshop, where very few people had to lay eyes on it.

The other feature that the new house had… was a lack of bodyguards. They had talked it over and finally decided that if they were going to make a break and start a new life, they were going to do as much as possible by themselves. Which meant carpooling to preschool and private school, afternoon soccer games, and toddler ballet… because Peter was absolutely fascinated by dancing.

The only person from the security team that had moved with them was Phil, who had grown so attached to the kids that he wanted to still be near them as "uncle Phil", even if it meant living down the street and working for someone else. He was there when they needed him.

… and Bucky was starting to seriously consider having the man spend a weekend at the house, so that Bucky and Tony could have a vacation. 

He was just combing conditioner into his hair with his fingers, when the door of the shower opened and Tony stepped in. Tony, who had never been anything close to a morning person, had started to become just that the more time they spent with the kids. It was hard to stay up for endless hours on a creative binge, when a three year old wanted to be up and playing during daylight hours. 

All of that being said, Tony still looked like an exhaustion zombie before his second cup of coffee.

But five a.m. was the magic hour. The only hour of the day when they were almost guaranteed peace and quiet… and alone time.

Tony's arms wrapped around Bucky's waist and a moment later he was like an octopus clinging to Bucky's body, hair conditioner be damned.

"Good morning, love," he said over the sound of the water. Tony simply grumbled in response, forehead pressed to the middle of Bucky's chest. Bucky chuckled, leaning his head back to rinse his hair. Once he was done and his hair wasn't dripping in his eyes, he curled his hand and tipped Tony's chin back. Dark eyes sparkled with an adoration like no other and Bucky smiled as he captured Tony's lips in a kiss.

_Magic hour._

Bucky liked to imagine what it would be like if they were both still in their twenties and things like _shower sex_ could be exciting and rambunctious. If they didn’t both get aches in their knees the minute they spent any significant time kneeling on the hard tile of the shower floor. He had vivid memories of being fucked against shower walls in his youth, but none of them involved Tony and that was a crying shame. 

He skimmed his kisses down Tony’s neck and grinned. Just because he couldn’t _do_ those things, didn’t mean he couldn’t share the fantasies.”One of these days,” his words were just barely loud enough to be heard over the running water, spoken directly into Tony’s ear, “I’m going to spend some time getting myself all nice and stretched out before you wake up. Then I’m going to let you fuck me against the shower wall.”

Instead of being gaspy and turned on… Tony laughed, leaning back to capture Bucky’s eyes. “We tried that in the tower once, remember? Your foot slipped on a bar of soap and you almost broke my dick.”

Bucky let his forehead thump down onto Tony’s shoulder. “I’m trying to be sexy here, love. You’ve gotta work with me.”

“Apologies, Casanova.” Tony kissed his temple. “How about some body washing and handjobs? So we don’t break anything important."

He wanted to argue that he was perfectly capable of doing more adventurous things — but that was pretty stupid when he was just arguing with himself about all of the things he _couldn’t_ do, not five minutes before. And honestly? Even soapy handjobs were delightful when it was Tony.

They spent a few minutes using the soap for its intended purposes (it was never a good idea to forget about the _showering_ part of _showering_ when in a climax haze), before Tony seemed to get fed up with waiting and curled a hand in Bucky’s hair to pull him in for another kiss. They made out like teenagers, because it was the one thing that aching joints couldn’t influence. 

Bucky let Tony direct the kiss, as his own hands skimmed a wet and soapy path down Tony’s stomach.When he reached the spot where their dicks were hard and waiting, he wrapped his long fingers around Tony’s cock, squeezing the base for a moment before sliding his palm back and forth along the length. 

It was a slow torture. The beauty of the magic hour was that there was no rush. They could draw out the pleasure as much as possible and just _enjoy._

* * *

“Now?”

“Not yet.”

“On the finished part?”

“You know the rules, Peter.”

“But I won’t let it—”

_”Peter.”_

The boy huffed, sitting back down on the floor with his train clutched in his hands. Bucky was attempting to create a ‘ginormous!’ track for his very _large_ collection of Thomas trains, but Peter lacked patience, just like his father. The rule was that no trains could go on the track until it was complete — a rule implemented after one of the trains a few weeks back had hit an unstable spot and caused a pile of books to collapse onto Bucky’s foot, breaking his smallest toe. 

Bucky gave up on his attempts to extend the track any farther and went ahead with clicking the last two pieces into place. “There you go.”

Peter’s entire face lit up. “Thank you, Papa!”

He ruffled shaggy brown curls before slowly pulling himself up off of the floor. Peter would be occupied for a while, and Morgan was upstairs in her room with a friend from school that had been invited over for a ‘sleepover’. Every few minutes the sound of little girls laughing would echo down the staircase and make him smile.

Stepping into the kitchen, Bucky contemplated starting a batch of cookies for the kids, when the back door slid open. He turned, rolling his eyes immediately at the sight of Steve Rogers walking into the house in his underwear. “Another suit malfunction? Or are you shacking up with the hot chef that lives next door?”

“Everyone keeps talking about this hot chef but no one seems to want to introduce me.” Steve went to the banquet cupboard in the dining room area; pulling out the spare clothes he kept hidden and quickly getting dressed. “Please don’t tell Pietro I said that.” Once he had on sweats and a t-shirt, Steve moved over to the fridge and began scavenging for food. After his ‘accident’ he was _always_ hungry. They had a shelf in their pantry just for Steve snacks, like he was some human version of Scooby-Doo. “I don’t think he’d get jealous, mind you, I think he would get wild ideas about orgies.”

“You two are gross.” While the fridge was open, Bucky reached over Steve’s head and pulled out the butter. It would need to be room-temp for cookies, so he might as well let that start happening. 

“You’re just jealous.” Steve pulled out a container of baby carrots and closed the fridge. “You know this house is remarkably quiet, considering all of the children that should be in it.”

“Peter is in train land and Morgan has a friend over.” Bucky pointed at Steve with a spatula. “Did you sleep in the apartment last night? Swear I saw a light out there when I rolled over.”

The garage had been converted into a workshop and then they had decided to add on an apartment above it, just in case they had guests show up in the middle of the night… 

“Suit got messed up in Europe. Had Nat drop me off here on her way back to the city. Pietro said he’d drive out tomorrow to pick me up. He wants to see some weird sweets shop that he read about, out in Mass.”

“You live a strange life, Steven.”

“Little bit.” Steve motioned to the mixer that Bucky had pulled out. “Cookies? If I help will you make some white chocolate and cranberry?”

“Tony will be mad. You know how he feels about cranberry…”

“If Tony isn’t in here to help, he doesn’t get an opinion.”

“It’s his house.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the guest. Guest’s always get cookie privileges.”

“This isn’t a five-star hotel.”

“Not with that attitude!”

“How about you bake cookies and I go play trains or dress-up? My kids definitely don’t complain and bitch this much…”

_”Bucky!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *backs away slowly* I'm so sorry that was terrible...


End file.
